Suits
by Atheniandream
Summary: 'His eyes catch at something behind her. She turns, noticing the black polished shoes and Pastel Grey Jacket on her couch.' - MAJOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON THREE CASTING - Plus Major Speculation / Wishlist. Donna/Spoiler Donna/Harvey
1. Chapter 1

Okay, this includes **Spoilers** for **Season Three casting**, and Major Spec verging on complete fiction and wishes!

Donna/Spoiler Donna/Harvey WARNING HAS BEEN GIVEN. :-)

* * *

**Suits** By Atheniandream

* * *

She's not getting better at weeding out the bad decisions; but the alcohol in her system is threatening to derail any choices she's about to make. She doesn't do a damn thing about the objections forming abstractly in her head.

His fingers glide along the zipper; the rough edges catching on his hands as he pulls at the zip, his eyes watching it as it slowly peels her inch by inch like a banana. Mint is replaced by pale peach with a hint of brown freckles gradually bruising with a blush. He starts first with the shoulders, pushing the fabric off of them simultaneously as his lips trace skin at the boundary of covered flesh; nipping and marking her just above her breasts all the way up to her collarbone. She gasps, her hands finding his crew cut blonde hair; polished fingernails digging into his scalp as his lips find the pink shell lace of her bra.

She thinks how much of a bad idea this is and yet how it's working out so well for her in this moment; now naked to the waist save for her bra she leans back on her forearms so he can rid the rest of her body of the offending dress. Her razor high heels drop with a clank against the end of the bed as his tongue trails lavishly over the space between her ribs causing her body to arch. She's never been so compliant in her life. But this man has an effect on her that she can't put a finger on; and dismisses the obvious connections that tie them; _all of them_ together.

His lips find hers; hungry and playful at the same time as her hands start to work on his tie, fingers smoothing down the length of it until-

She stops.

The silk is familiar; too familiar. She nearly throws him out of her apartment and runs for a cold shower until his fingers find the skin of her thigh and her brown eyes find his blue ones, light and piercing and suddenly everything is a wave of unfamiliar again.

She undoes the tie in a flash and tries to focus on the buttons of his shirt; tongue and teeth at the base of his throat as he leans over her, pushing her legs apart.

"How _is_ a woman like you single?" He whispers the question, his voice low and inviting against her throat.

She sees a second of challenge in his eyes, like she knows the question he's asking and she knows that he already has the answer.

"Just kiss me." Is her only answer and he seems wickedly satisfied at that.

The comparisons end there and it's the best sex she'd had in years. He ticks nearly every box; but she doesn't question why; afraid again of comparison.

He doesn't try to spoon her; and he's welcomely comforting in her bed. She missed the closeness from someone all the way on the other side.

* * *

The rapping on the door is loud; and very unwelcome. She sneaks a glance at the naked man sleeping in her bed, notices her phone on the dresser with a flashing light and darts to the door, throwing on her dressing gown on the way. It says 1:00am on clock in the hall.

She doesn't look through the peephole; first mistake. She opens the door slowly, achingly so.

"Harvey..." She says; but the meaning of the word comes out vague.

He is weary; his hair still perfect but his tie is askew. She hates that. She hates even more that she's the filler to two men in the same space right now.

"What Harvey; it's a little late."

"I know." He mumbles.

"You may think that you can accost Mike at all hours of the morning; but you can't do that _here_."

"I know that. I just..." He says; eyeing her with suspicion.

"Just what?"

"...Can I come in?" He asks, cocking his head to one side like the simple courtesy is too much. It occurs to her that he's not very good at being respectful of their boundaries anymore, then she remembers how his, **_their_** future hangs on the turn of a dime.

"It's late, can't we talk in the morning?" She reasons, but her voice and expression are still gaurded.

She watches the muscles on his face tighten; his jaw set and as he stands up a little straighter so that he's suddenly taller than her. Her stomach lurches and she's suddenly very aware of wearing very little in front of someone who means more than a lot.

"Yeah," He says, vaguely. His eyes catch at something behind her. She turns, noticing the black polished shoes and Pastel Grey Jacket on her couch.

The first thing that she learnt about Harvey, was that he loved Suits. Loved the cuts, the designs, the extra things like pocket squares and how you could tailor your shirts right down the to cufflink you chose. Every choice meant something and he had grown perfect at representing the best of that.

He knew _Suits_.

Her eyes flick back to his; and his guarded expression is enough.

"Really?" He asks, condescension the only thing she can hear.

"Harvey, I..." She falters. He was the only one who could bend her resolve like that.

"I shouldn't have come." He says, disjointed and an unreadable emotion on his face, as he clears his throat. "I'll see you Monday."

She doesn't go after him, instead shutting the door. She hears gentle footsteps behind her.

"Hey, you alright out here?"

"Fine." She tells him.

She bites back the urge to ask Stephen Huntley to leave immediately.

She's glad when she wakes to find him gone.

* * *

Monday comes and she's working immediately; the moment she enters her cubicle. No morning welcomes waiting and the coffee is on his desk instead of in her hand.

She doesn't expect to be called into his office by 10am.

"Donna." She hears to the side of her. Her breath catches and she prepares for battle.

"Yes?" She says curtly; standing in front of him in the tightest thing she has. She didn't know why she picked it out but somehow it makes her feel tall and ready for anything.

"Regardless of how you involve yourself in my lovelife; I'm not going to do that,"

"Okay..." She says, feeling the suspension of a 'but' or a 'however' waiting in the wings.

Neither come. His face is professional; unfeeling.

"That guy is blaming me for Scottie; and he's being given my position in this firm,"

"I'm not leaving you, Harvey." She says. It's where he was going becuase his feature blanch and he's taken aback.

"You're sleeping with the enemy. Literally." He says; the words more heartfelt than she'd expected.

"Slept. It won't happen again." She argues, resolute of the finality in her words.

"It's not what I'm asking." He says; quiet, a strain in his voice.

"**It won't happen again**." She says, firmer.

He takes a second. She waits. As she always has.

"But...if it does?" He asks.

"_I'm not leaving you_, Harvey." She repeats.

They remain silent, unmoved and the door is open to the outside world as always. People at the firm know better - save for Louis - than to linger outside the office of Harvey Specter's.

His face falters, but he nods. "That'll be all." Is the last thing he says.

Before she hits the door she turns, and it occurs to her that she is a glutton for punishment.

"And Harvey?"

"Yes?"

"Don't turn up at my apartment. If you need me; you just... call me." Her tone is direct; just off of severe but her eyes betray the softness in her voice.

"Fine." He says, then slowly returns to the paperwork in front of him.

* * *

I love this idea, I'm hoping they get some juice going this season. And some funny too.

Edit: Don't know why I called him Andrew. His name is not Andrew. LMAO. Edited.


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: 

Sorry about the greatness of the lateness. Trying to catch up a bit. Thankyou for the follows and reviews on this! Enjoy xXx

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**Suits – Chapter 2**

* * *

Donna spends the rest of the day paired in what can only be described as a 'dance of the silent people'; her and Harvey manoeuvring between one another via memo's, the signing of letters; a well-crafted dance of getting everything done without so much as a word. It riles her, but she's not going to give in and their collective stubbornness prevails all the way till lunch.

She actually takes a lunch today; fearing that she'll snap around the three o'clock mark if she doesn't hunt out a Cheeto; but she gets stuck in the Partner's kitchen when Rachel walks in and can only have opinions on Mike's current state of mind. She thanks the earth for Rachel and her complicated relationships, as well as her forgiveness of Donna for keeping things from her. It's all twisted…but she's thankful all the same.

"I just… I can't believe that he…_everyone_…hid it for so long." Rachel says, her hands hanging limply in her lap as her mind tries to piece together the thoughts in her head.

"Oh, trust me… we were on lockdown and it **_still _**nearly slipped out of the net. For conspiracy levels alone, it's up there with a Watergate tapes."

"Aren't you worried about losing your job?" She asks.

It's a question no one has ever asked her. Harvey and Mike dealt with it everyday, but no one considered the implications of her involvement…_yet_. She pauses, collecting.

"Harvey made the call; I supported it. If Mike goes down, I, Harvey _and_ Jessica all hit the screws."

"Jessica too?"

"And now even maybe you," She says vaguely.

"Donna," Rachel objects immediately.

"Sweety, I'm not going to implicate you; I would never… and Harvey, no matter how much he lectures Mike has a very soft spot for you. But Jessica? If she hears that another person is implicated in this then she could use that as leverage against Harvey."

"Things with Harvey and Jessica still bad?" Her friend winces.

"You have no idea. I know why he did what he did, but he's making bad choices now… kicking everyone out of the boat…I'm getting worried. If he goes, I go. And that's fine, but… I may not be able to salvage this."

"I don't want to lose you at the firm." Her friend says. It would be comforting if the idea wasn't so close to home.

"And I don't want to lose my job. I trust that if the shit ever hit the fan that I can trust in Harvey one hundred percent. But… this is,"

"Your **Home**."

"Yeah." She says, the realisation in her voice. "It's **our** home."

"Things will get better. They have to; none of this is putting anyone in positions where they're comfortable. Something has to give."

"That's what I'm worried about." Donna responds, pressing a button on the coffee maker.

She's alerted to Rachel ironing out the creases in her skirt.

"I have to get back to work otherwise Louis is bound to come and find me. I swear that guy has almost no respect, and yet in a second he can be **so**…"

"Charming?" Donna offers, a knowing smile on her face.

"It doesn't sound like a 'Louis' word, does it?" She says; laughing at her friend as she slowly pulls herself out of the chair. "Are we still meeting after work?"

"Of course. Seven Thirty and not a minute earlier. Harvey's corporate card needs a little action that happy hour cannot provide." She jokes with a deliberate purr.

"You're so bad!" Rachel chuckles, a peel of laugh trickling all the way down the hall after her.

Donna is left in quiet silence, stirring the coffee in her cup, slowly watching the fluid mix and swirl unevenly and the thought of just how she's going to get Harvey back into everyone's good books. The problem is that, Harvey doesn't want to. And he knows her tenacity for going behind his back when an occasion calls for it. But with their ambiguous relationship on tenderhooks and her still in the dark about why he even came to her apartment; it appears to her that things won't get better for a while.

_I deserve a raise… _She thinks to herself.

"Why, if it isn't Donna Paulsen."

She turns very slowly so see Stephen casually leaning against a water cooler.

_Smooth Bastard, _she thinks.

"Hey Steve." She jibes, glancing at him with purpose.

"How are you?" He asks carefully.

"Good. You?" She replies; an odd self-consciousness overcoming her as she thinks of what she's wearing. And how he is more than equipped to get her out of it in 30 seconds or less…

He narrows his gaze, a smile small on his lips. "This is … a little awkward, isn't it?" He says.

"Only because you're making it," She replies, measuring him once again. Then she checks herself, realising that there really is a tension to their now rather personal connection. "Okay..it's awkward." She admits, smiling.

"It's because of your Boss isn't it?"

The question throws her but just how 'on the mark' it is...

"Harvey?" She doesn't answer yes or no, but somehow between the parted silence in her answer he draws his own conclusion.

"It was him at the door…Friday? He doesn't like people playing with his things, does he?"

"I'm not his to play with." She fires, sure of her meaning.

"Have dinner with me tonight." He counters, standing upright. To Donna it doesn't even really feel like a question but it throws her off the defence. _Lawyer…_

"I can't…girl's night out." She says.

"Tomorrow then… my treat?" He offers, his eyes narrowing as if it's all to keep himself amused for the day.

She eyes Stephen; taking in his manner; casual, suggestive with a hint of narcissism. There's something oddly gold about his hair...

She walks very slowly, taking time to sachet past him with a hidden smile and note that he is shorter than her _and_ Harvey. She stops for a moment, her eyes looking at his lips deliberately.

"I'll think about it." She says, and walks out into the busy corridor; the door shutting with a clank behind her.

She spends the rest of the day sure that she made the right choice but tempted by the alternative. Especially when Harvey extends his silent treatment.

* * *

When they go out; Rachel has a habit of going to the bathroom for more than ten minutes, often leaving Donna solo. And over the years she's spent more than her fair share of time at the bar trying to placate or sway a stranger from buying her a drink or attempting with some limp interest to ask her out.

Tonight is no different when she hears shuffling behind her. She rolls her eyes, an excuse ready on her lips until she turns and finds herself face to face with Stephen Huntley. He's grinning at her in his way. She finds it immediately annoying but is reminded instantly of him, hot and sweaty and writhing in her bed.

She blushes like a red head should, all the way to her ankles.

"Are you…stalking me?" She asks, the playfulness dimpling under a very serious note.

"_I wish_. I'm having meeting with," He turns pointing to the man at the table of two alone. "That guy there."

"You're lying." She scoffs.

"Wave and see." He challenges.

She looks at him as if he's completely insane, but finds herself waving at the man riding solo on a table for two; then Stephen joins in and the man at the table is suddenly smiling and waving back, his eyes obviously wider than usual at the attention being drawn to him.

"Okay hotshot. What do you want?" She folds her arms.

"I want, what every man wants,"

"And that is?"

He dips between her and the blonde standing to his right, leaning against the bar. "A drink." he grins wickedly.

She laughs at that; something wide and almost guttural. It's so odd the way he is. The way his British humour is so easily translatable through his cool exterior and sharp look. Very unlike the rest of the lawyers who came across the pond on this merger. She'd never seen such a stare from a man with eyes as greeny blue as his. She thought only Harvey, with his dark browns had that act down.

"So, you're still…busy tonight I gather?" He enquires, eyes ranging for a free barman.

"My friend's in the bathroom." Donna gestures, suddenly self-aware that Rachel could pop up at any moment and that she hasn't even told her about any of it yet. More aware of the fact that she's having to justify herself once again being alone in a bar; as if she's really trailing for gentleman callers.

"Don't all women go to the bathroom together?" He asks.

"Only in Sex and the City." She scoffs once more.

"Good program. HBO?" He muses, a flirty look in his eye.

"Sure it is," She rolls her eyes at that, taking a sip of her wine.

"What? It's candid. Vodka on rocks, and a bottle behind the bar for whatever this beautiful woman is drinking." He says to the barman in front of him, who nods vacantly.

"Candid? That just does it for you? Not the...naked women and lunchtime sextalk?"

"The naked women...well, I'm not going to object. But, I like it when people are...blunt. It's honest." He plays once more, but there's a hint of truth in his words.

"Then you must _love _me." She jokes rolling her eyes, but only after is aware of what a snare trap she's laid out.

He takes his drink, shoulder brushing hers until he's inches away. She can't smell a drop on his breath.

"Oh, I'm getting there." He says, before gliding away.

He causes a shiver in her chest.

It would have been perfect, if Rachel hadn't witnessed every last second of it.

Donna's stomach flips as her friend hurries quickly back into the gap that Stephen's vacated at the bar.

"Donna... wasn't that…?" She asks, eyes following the suit.

"Stephen Huntley." She confirms.

"Scottie's ex?"

"…Perhaps…" She replies, carefully.

"He was flirting with you." Rachel states, her face immediately accusing. She has to give it Rachel. She is quick.

"…Perhaps…"

"You're not…?" She asks, waiting for Donna's face to give it up.

"…I did…?" Which she does.

"What? No you didn't!"

The shock on Rachel's face is enough to worry Donna. She's not easily worried but she knew from the get go how difficult this would all be.

"Keep your voice down Rachel. He's in earshot, kind of. His table has more than enough of a view."

"When? And where? And When? And why didn't you tell me! Tell me everything right now."

"You've had a lot on your plate. And Friday. We met at a bar; my date had to dash. Yes we ended up at mine. Yes is was great. And to add even more strain, Harvey appeared at my door at 1 in the morning. And yes. He was still there."

"Oh my god! And you didn't even tell me?"

"Rachel, it's Monday. It took me the whole weekend to process it all."

"What did Harvey say?"

"Nothing at the time. Well...he's not that happy with it. Thinks that it's a game to turn everyone against him."

"Ugh. It is just like a guy to think like that; god forbid a man be interested in you because you're a catch. No, it must _of course_ be about overthrowing your Boss's position in the firm."

"Well. I mean… It's understandable; to a point. Scottie left Stephen _for_ Harvey. And now he and I have… It's not like there isn't ambiguity all over this one, but,"

"Wait, does Scottie know that you and her ex-fiancé have…?"

"Bumped uglies?"

"Ew." Rachel says, making a face.

"Look, she dropped him; and I have only ever tried to **help her** when she's come to me about Harvey. I'm not at fault here; and neither is he. It was a snap decision and it's not like we're dating. And we're both single, so..."

"He's looking over here." Rachel says, the excited panic in her voice etching up a notch as she taps her friend on the arm.

"He wanted to take me to dinner tonight when we collided in the Partner's lounge."

"And you cancelled? For me? Donna…."

"Friends before…_spontaneous one-night stands_, Rachel, you know that."

Rachel laughs at that.

"You should go over there." She suggests, a oddly wicked look from a usually innocent Paralegal.

"He's in a meeting. I'll see him tomorrow."

"He's still staring at you." Rachel sing songs at her.

"It's so unprofessional. He's in a **meeting**…"

* * *

Everything was running so smoothly the next day that she should have known better than to assume the day would continue as such. She was ahead of her personal targets, Harvey was being complacent but somewhat more cordial and everything seemed perfectly in sync…until she sees a figure tower above her cubicle.

She sucks in a breath before looking up into his pearly blues. "What? I'm busy."

"Good afternoon to you too, Ms. Paulsen." He says in his smooth British accent.

"What do you want…**_Steve_**…?" She flashes a look she regrets, until she notices that he seems unfazed.

"Just, making sure you don't forget our date tonight. You promised." His tone is bribing, somewhat pouty.

"I did no such thing. I said, 'I'd think about it'." She counters, unfazed.

"You say that…but your eyes said 'yes'."

"It's the funniest thing, because my mouth is saying 'no'."

"You are a contradiction." He muses. "Okay…what is it going to take?" He asks, getting down to the hardball end of the conversation.

"Nothing that you have." She plays, eyes fixed on her computer.

"Are you always this hard to get; or do I just bring that out in you?" he asks.

For the first time he sounds like Harvey. Even with the accent it's alarmingly similar. And somehow she hears a shuffle come from Harvey's office like he hears it too.

"Fine. If I say yes, will you go away?" She fires.

"Immediately. Seven thirty-five, at the lift?" He says, immediately pleased with himself.

"The lift?" She says, confused, her face crinkling at the edges.

"The Elevator." He corrects, rolling his eyes.

"Ah.. yes. The thing that…lifts. Now leave me, I'm busy."

She watches him smirk from his toes to his teeth and it leaves her unsettled by just how amused by it she is. But she doesn't look behind her and Harvey doesn't question a thing.

But she can tell by the way he responds to her for the rest of the day that he heard every word of it.

* * *

Hopefully I'll get a Chapter out faster as I've written an outline. x


	3. Chapter 3

Be posting again in next day or so to try and get headway on this fic! Enjoy!

* * *

**Suits – Chapter 3**

She feels uneasy, waiting for a man at the elevator. She's waited on Mike with a Suit in hand; she's waited for Harvey when he's been late on those rare occasions; and she's waited for Ray when Harvey's forgotten something and he's been asked to pick it up.

But she's never waited at the elevator for a **_date_**.

She's grateful that Harvey already left for the day; otherwise this would be twice as embarrassing and four times as hard in it's aftermath.

Her fingers keep running over the fabric of her dress; not out of nervousness but impatience. She hates waiting. She'd rather be in a bar somewhere minding her own business with a large glass of wine, not hanging around the lobby looking lost or stood up on.

She spies the late offender stopping half way down the hallway as a temp catches him. She's blonde and busty and direct and their exchanging a repartee that Donna thinks is cliché and frustrating to watch considering that he's late and she _is _in earshot.

He eventually spies her and leaves the Blonde, walking to meet her. She's inches from bolting.

"You came." He notes, a swagger in his step.

She's not amused but the double entendre and rolls her eyes. "You're late." She points out, glare obvious to him.

"I _am_ sorry." He holds out his arm, pressing the elevator button. "Let's not waste any more time... shall we?"

It's his innate Englishness that throws her off, she realises. She's used to brash rudeness and gaming for a fight that she'll usually win. But he's so polite that it tends to make up for any annoyances that he brings.

As the doors open; it's her worst nightmare waiting in there.

_Harvey._

"Harvey Specter." Stephen manages to sneak in the word before she can even open her mouth.

He's staring at her, the same way he did at her apartment door.

She feels just as naked; and only half registers how she and Stephen are interlinked with her arm in his. He sees it and his back stiffens, even if his face reads a blank.

"Well kids… have a good night." He says, walking out of the elevator. It sounds like he's joking in his usual way, but the words are laced with sarcasm and arsenic and it riles her. She wonders if Stephen's caught on.

She gets into the elevator, Stephen pressing the buttons.

Before he rounds the corner, Harvey turns, just as she is about to look out between the closing doors. The look they share could cut a hole in the glass lobby.

* * *

She's grateful that she's on a date with Stephen. They know each other quite well now, and he's aware that she's more obtuse and sharp-edged at work than she is in her personal life. She's still quick but somehow he welcomes, no, encourages it. It's refreshing to be around someone who's not afraid of it. And it explains why he liked Scottie.

"I never did ask you," She begins, putting her fork down on the shiny china plate.

"What?"

"How do find New York?" There is a curiousness in her tone.

"I've been here before." He says, droll and honest, taking a sip of his beer.

"That's it? You've been here before? It's one of the best cities in the world." She's says.

"So is London. Have you been to all of the best cities in the world?" He challenges, leaning slightly over the table.

"Maybe…" She says; until she watches him challenge her and gives in. "Okay, no, I haven't. But as far as disaster movies go, New York is top feature. And Times Square-"

"It's pretty spectacular; I'll give you Times Squares. But a city is just a city. And we do have Piccadilly Circus. And by the way, I've been to Milan, Tokyo, and now, New York."

"Don't you ever get bored of bragging?"

"Not really. I'm a lawyer aren't I?" He jokes. They're playful and it's refreshing to play in this kind of pool with someone.

"You really need me to tell you that? Have you hit your head in the past half hour?" She chides, taking a sip of her wine.

He only laughs in reply. It seems to be the way with him; when he finds her genuinely funny, he just…laughs. No quip, no smarmy comeback, just a laugh, like he is just happy enjoying her.

She hasn't been enjoyed in such a long time...

Whatever he was doing…it was working.

The second time she takes him back to hers, it's less drunken haze of passion and sexual tension and more…comfortable. But it only takes half an hour and he's already pulling her into the bedroom.

She wouldn't usually sleep with a guy on the first date, but seeing as they skipped the notice period she figures it would be best to just enjoy it in the moment. They still don't cuddle after sex, but somehow her feet end up tangled in his, his hand on her thigh tracing lazy lines as he asks her questions.

"How did you come to be someone's assistant?"

"_Executive assistant_." She corrects.

"You know what I mean. You appear to be more qualified than your average assistant."

"I'm just really…_really_ good at my job."

She watches as he takes a moment on it.

"How long have you worked for Harvey?" He asks. There is no tone, no insinutation.

"Nearly…12 years. _Wow_. I don't think I've ever said that out loud." She says, suddenly self-conscious of the notion that time has flown before her.

"Wow. That's a… marriage."

"Nearest thing he's ever going to get to one…" She feels bad for talking about him like that, but then she remembers that she owes him nothing for those 12 years of almost flawless work. Still she hears the words slip out like their hidden under the sheets.

"Not the marrying kind?" He enquires.

"He doesn't appear to be."

"So why?" He asks. Her brow furrows.

"Why what?"

"Why be someone's assistant? Haven't you ever wanted to get a promotion?"

Her face is pensive for a moment, thinking. Finding something buried so deep down she'd forgotten about it all.

"When I was young… I wanted to act, dance, sing. Everything a foolish young performance artist wants. But life got kind of hard; I did some temping to help pay the rent, and then ended up at the DA's office. That's where I met Harvey. He promised that if I went with him, that I'd love it, and he'd make sure I was never undervalued as his assistant. He wanted to climb to the top, and he said he'd take me with him. So I came back to the firm with him and then… life just got in the way."

"He kept his promise though."

"Harvey always keeps his promises."

"That can't be easy being a lawyer."

"Not as lawyer. As a man. As a lawyer...Harvey wins."

She watches him frown, before his face lightens and his hand starts to move again.

"If you could do anything what would you do?"

"I'd teach Theatre." She says.

"Then why don't you do it?" He asks.

_Was it so obvious to this almost stranger that she deserved so much more?_ Sometimes she would look back and wonder where the years had gone, but she'd stopped the moment she'd been put in that mock-trial. Her leg runs up the underside of his calf.

"Sometimes, life doesn't always go the way you planned. When that happens, you can either resent, or go with it. I go to the theatre, I read plays, do everything that I love in my spare time. But I love my job. And I'm the best paid Assistant out of every top Law firm in New York City. I have ways of knowing everything that I need to know for my job and I can get Harvey anything he wants, whenever he wants it. When he wins, I win. And when I think, that I could have been a starving artist, I remember that I don't have it so bad."

"Well. You are persuasive." He says, his hand settling in the middle of her back.

"What about you, Lawyer? Is it your dream job?"

"It is." He says, testing the truth of the words. "It's hard…when you decide that you want to be that one thing and you work your arse off and sacrifice everything for it. When you get it, and you still have to work so hard that you don't have to time to enjoy the benefits, then I wonder sometimes. I love it, and I'm happy to work for it, but… a lawyer's life has not always got a happy medium."

"Would you change it?" She asks.

"No. I'm meant to be Lawyer. But… I could just use a holiday."

She laughs, turning towards him.

"No rest for the wicked?"

"Nope. No rest."

* * *

She wakes in the morning, and the first thing she can think of is Harvey, and the waning of a storm seeming possible.

Both used to the early wake up calls, they're both showered and dressed by 6:30am. No morning sex and no coffee. But he does kiss her in the elevator down from her apartment. They stop off at Starbucks as they're so early, and she remembers to get Harvey his coffee but wonders if he's even going to drink it. They take another cab to work, but she's thankful that Steve gets out at the Palace Hotel and leaves her to arrive solo. She can't bear to think about how Harvey's going to be when he gets in. The image of his face is burning a hole in her chest and making her arms itch sporadically.

She's shocked when he's fine, if not slightly reserved as she hands him his coffee. He takes a sip, frowning as she warms her hand with her own cup.

"This is yours." He says, his nose wrinkling.

"Give it to me," She says, her gruff side taking over as she takes his drink, feeling the mocha run down her throat as she takes a sip. He's right.

"I'm right aren't I?" He says, arrogance taking over under the cover of a smile.

"Kind of… I think there two Mocha's here." She muses. _How did that happ-_

"Wait a minute, why does mine say 'Steve'?" He suddenly says, pointing to the noticeable scrawl on the cardboard sleeve.

"Oh shit." She says, nearly dropping the cup.

"Your boyfriend has my Double Shot?" He says, immediately irritated, but seeming to keep a lid on it.

"He's not my boyfriend. But yes…he may have…**_switch_**?" She knows that he'll refuse to drink a cup with Stephen's name on it all morning.

"Yes please." He says with a huff, taking the cup clearly marked 'Donna.'

"Better?"

"Not really. I wanted Coffee. Not a hot chocolate." He grumbles.

"It's Mocha. And if you don't want it…"

Mike is a welcome break from their strange little bicker. Harvey sees him and walks straight into the office, shutting the door, the sound of banging glass vibrating against the walls. Mike immediately halts, shoulders drooping and the kind of sad disappointed puppy look that she's seen on the young man's face so many times in the last few weeks.

"Hey Mike." She says; a pitiful smile on her lips as she sips her drink.

"He's still mad at me I see?" Mike indicates at the door.

"Yes." She says, her smile sad until a thought occurs. "However, you could do something that could not only redeem yourself, but also me."

"Anything, I swear. I've had enough of this. Wait, what did you do?" His attention is clipped when her expression changes.

"Nothing. Go get me a Venti Triple Shot Latte from Starbucks. And a Lemon Muffin. Ask for Lisa and tell her it's for Donna. And hustle." She says, seating herself.

"What did you do?" He asks, leaning over the partition wall.

"COFFEE. MUFFIN. LISA. **GO NOW**." She barks.

The kid nods. It's the fasted he's hustled in a while. She realises how much she's missed his constant presence in her and Harvey's life.

"Donna," She hears his voice over the intercom.

"It won't happen again and you're welcome." She says immediately, aware that it is as much of an apology as he's going to get. She hears the rustle of a smile as he settles in his office chair.

* * *

The rest of the week runs smoothly; with her doing her best at keeping Stephen and Harvey as far apart as humanly possible. When work calls for it they are cordial, but there are things unsaid and she keeps out of their way. She sees him twice more that week, and he stays each time. She understands that he's living out of a hotel, and perhaps being at someone else's house is better than the sterile and un-homely feel of a double bed at the Palace.

He catches her off guard when they go to Liberty island on the weekend – as he enquired as to the grand nature of such a famous monument – and he asks her a question whilst she's hugging her coffee against the wind.

"Well, she is beautiful," He agrees, taking in the cool stone and steely demeanour.

"It's sad though," She says. "To think that the statue was originally a black slave in shackles. I'm not sure which is worse, the depiction of a black man as a slave, chained at the edge of the New World, or changing it completely to a white person. It makes you think, both ideas were wrong."

"Well, I'm not sure. Indeed, maybe the figure should have spoken of a more historically correct ethnic origin. But the message of Lady Liberty is quite powerful, and quite wonderful. And it's not a man, so at least there's that."

"Yeah, Mr Liberty doesn't quite have the same ring to it."

"It's better than having the London Eye. That thing is an Eye-saw. Literally."

She laughs as the half-joke, catching her hair flowing in the high breeze as she watches his eyes twinkle out onto the horizon.

"I'm going back to London in two weeks." He says.

"Oh." She spits out. "Of course."

"I uh…I think that Dana may be coming back here soon, so Darby needs me to oversee the main office, as he'll be backwards and forwards for a while."

She ignores what mayhem may ensue with Dana back in Harvey's life.

"Well, they can't have you living out of a hotel for the rest of your life, right?" She says; a small smile on her face as she sips her coffee. It's a revelation to her that she feels so defensive at the simple notion of him going; as if she's not allowed to be sad about it, not allowed to feel anything. She may have spent too much time not feeling things in the past. She's practical but there's a piece of her that can't look at him in the moment.

"I wanted to ask you… to..._come with me_." He says, his eyes stare, unguarded. Honest.

"What?"

"I know it's an ask. You're an American. But, I'm pretty sure with your resume you could find a position there. Or, you could come…stay with me. See what you really want to do?"

"You're serious?"

"I like you, Donna. I know that we've never spoken about exclusivity, so you have no obligation, but I think we have fun, and obviously my intention wasn't to start dating someone from the firm, let alone someone who's so closely involved with Harvey and Dana. But…you're the only thing I think I'm going to miss about the city. I'd like to…**_not_** miss you. If I can help it, that is."

"What about the Statue of Liberty? Is she not good enough for you?" She Jokes.

He laughs at her instant humour of the seriousness in the air.

"She does have a spectacular crown. Shit dress sense though. Who wears a curtain?"

"It's a toga…Steve…this is a lot. I can't leave Harvey. He's so close to Managing Partner."

He smiles tightly at her.

"I thought you'd say that. So my question to you is…after he makes that name on the door, what is there for you, then? Where can you go from there? Or are you going to stay in the same position for the rest of your life? Your far more qualified than that, Donna."

She'd never thought about that. Her gut twists even though he isn't holding a knife. He is right.

"I don't know." Her words are vacant, and for a first time she's lost in herself.

"Let me suggest this. Come for holiday. You can stay at mine, or a hotel if you want. But I can show you around London, real London. Maybe you'll enjoy it? **Great** theatres; we have the Globe, perfect replica, and we have lots of Starbucks and Fast food Restaurants, so it's not really going to seem that different."

"But you do have Pubs…and fish and chips…" She adds, a smile forming.

"We have _good_ fish and chips."

* * *

She's standing in front of his desk, handing him his mail when he asks her.

"Isn't Jeeves leaving soon?" Harvey says, a familiar condescending note as he eyes her casually.

"Yeah... about that; Stephen _is_ going…back to London. And he…has asked me to go with him."

"You're kidding right?" His eyes flicker to hers; his hand motionless in the air as he holds his pen in hand.

"No, no I'm not."

"And what exactly are you going to do in London? Be _his_ assistant?" His question cuts like ice, hard and resolute on the edge of their unspoken bond.

"Of course not, Harvey." She says, her words pained.

"Did you say yes?"

She can tell by the sharpness of his words that's it's all about him again. It immediately gets her back up.

"No."

"Then why are you telling me?" He fires.

"Because I'll be taking some time off…to go there. For a week; maybe too."

"Well, I can't stop you." He says, glancing back to his work.

"No, you can't. I've been overdue leave for at least twelve years, Harvey." Her tone rises, and he hears fire in her words.

"I know." He corrects himself then. She's right that she's overdue leave. She's barely asked for any time off in their entire career together. "When are you going?" He asks, his tone defeated.

"In a month."

"Fine. I'll make sure it's in the calendar," He looks back down his pen returning to paper.

"No, _I'll_ make sure it's in the Calendar."

She was just about to get out of there when his voice caught her attention.

"Donna,"

"Yes?"

"You're coming back right?"

He looks so small and vulnerable in his office chair. She smiles softly.

"It's just a holiday, Harvey."

Somehow, by the look in his eyes, he didn't seem convinced by her answer.

* * *

Always enjoy a good feed! XxX


	4. Chapter 4

Notes:

Thanks so much to everyone who's fed. It's gonna be a Rollercoaster on this one so stay with me people!

* * *

'SUITS' - Chapter 4 – By Atheniandream

* * *

When Rachel catches Donna in the Partner's kitchen, she's holding the Cheetos; having taken them hostage from all visible associates at least half an hour previous. And this time, Rachel's never been more interested in Donna's life and less in her own.

"So; have you…made a decision?" She asks her friend, watching with dark browns and a twitch in her lip.

"Don't look at me like that, Rach."

"Like what?"

"Like _that_. You'll make me cry." She warns, scrunching the foil packet in her hands.

"You've said yes?" The panic in her friend's face is enough to warrant a clarification.

"No. Sweetie, I'm going to wait and go there first before I make a final decision. I _do_…want to say yes, though."

"You're going to say yes." She says like it's a statement of fact. Rachel has a habit of jumping the gun. "I'm so sad that you won't be here…but London, that's amazing. That's a whole new life."

"I know. What will I do?"

"What do you want to do?" She asks, stirring the tea in her hands.

"Right now I want a drink. A big one. "

She laughs at her friend then.

"Maybe you should think on it, wait until you've gone and come back?" Rachel offers. Ever the steady rock.

"I don't think it's going to change my mind, Rach. This is more about the guy than it is the location. And of course I'm going to miss New York and my parents and everybody like crazy, but…I actually feel good about this; the idea of leaving it all behind being an option. A fresh start, and…some possibility."

"Judging by my last few months I complete get that… but, are you sure? This isn't the first time a guy from a foreign land has tried to sweep you off your feet."

Rachel was on to something. This wasn't the first time that she'd been proposed to in some sort of way. Luckily Rachel was always the steady ground that clung to her when she feared her friend was losing sight of reality. She couldn't help it. There would always be a flight in her. But this was different. This was…comfortable.

_It was real._

"Rachel…I'm sure." She says.

"Dare I say it, what about…?" Rachel made a face.

"Harvey? I can't think about him right now."

"Donna," Rachel protested, looking at her like a School teacher who was scolding a 7 year old.

"Don't."

"What if…?"

"Don't say it." She warned, a frown threatening on her face.

"But… _what_ if?"

"Then…nothing. Nothing will change. Trust me."

She ignores the lingering look of doubt on her best friend's face.

* * *

Her lunch with Stephen puts a complete grounding to the flighty feeling the conversation with Rachel had left her with. He was becoming the steady rock to her flood-like apprehension.

"I've been asked to help close the Mercer case up in Connecticut this weekend, before I return home." He says, chasing his chicken salad with a fork.

"Wow they're really utilising your time here," The sarcasm tainted her slight glare as she minded her own lunch.

"Tell me about it. And I've been assigned Mike, to accompany me for the two days."

Her face flicks up at the utterance of Mike. Mike had been seldom in her life the past month. It was starting to feel like an absence.

"Oh. Well…good. It's not like he's working for Harvey at the moment so it's good that he's finally getting picked up again. He's a very smart kid."

"You don't think that it will create unneeded strain…if Harvey finds out?"

"I'll handle it." She says, placating him.

"You sure?"

"I can handle it." She reaffirms. If there's one thing in the entire world that she can handle, it's Harvey Specter. "I gotta go. I have a ton of filing to do. You gonna pass past mine tonight for a proper goodbye, or leave me high and dry?" She asks, getting up from the table.

"What do you think…" He says, meeting to kiss her lightly.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." She cocks an eyebrow at him, looking back to see him enjoying her sauntering away.

She smiles all the way to the file room until a temp idly stares at her.

She glares, "What?" the word biting.

* * *

Despite Donna's best efforts to keep the fact from him, Harvey finds out almost immediately.

She expects irritability for days and curt replies to questions she has to ask him. Instead, she gets complete absence. She finally corners him in the file room before the day is almost about to finish and she's already late for meeting Stephen, who's probably outside her apartment already counting the minutes down.

"Since when do you come in here?" She asks, almost accusingly so, gliding amongst the aisles filled with boxes until she finds him at the end by the desks, file in his mouth as his fingers work through a wadd of paper.

"Since I don't have an associate anymore," He replies through paper and plastic.

"You could fix that, you know?" She folds her arms, an attitude in her stance as she watches him flick through files once more, before placing them on the table with the others.

"I kicked Mike for a reason. I hear he's… _doing well_ with my British counterpart."

She ignores the bad temper in his voice.

"He is. But…you're going to need him in the future, so."

"Why…for when he takes you instead?" His eyes flash 'danger'.

"Harvey, no one's taking me I-" She starts.

"I heard you with Rachel." He interrupts.

The statement clips her attention. For a second she's not sure if he said it or if she imagined it as she watches him almost frozen, his fingers searching another box of files. When his eyes meet hers again they're dark with a warning she can't quite understand.

"Harvey, I-" She's about to object when he interrupts again.

"You said 'yes'. Why didn't you tell me?" He fires at her.

"Harvey look… he asked me, and I-"

"I think you're making a huge mistake." He interrupts once more, pausing, only to continue with the files.

His constant interrupting of her immediately elicits an anger that she thinks she saves just for him.

"Why can't you just be happy for me?" She fires back, taking a step forward.

"Because in the twelve years that I've known you; you have NEVER, not once, compromised on your life for some guy."

"That's because YOU were the GUY, Harvey!" She's untempered and it's the worst location to be so. Anyone could be lurking, but she's too angry and it's too late in the day to care.

He pauses.

"What?" He asks.

"You were **the guy**! You were the only person in my life that I made the room for."

"Donna, I never," He babbles, unable to articulate his meaning.

"No, Harvey you never do. And that's the problem. Do you know, my mother doesn't even bother setting me up anymore because she knows that they won't put up with you?"

"What do you want me to say?" He asks, hands hanging limply at his sides.

"There isn't anything you can say. Do you know what the first question Stephen asked me was?" She asks, her hand on her hip making her all the sharper.

"What?"

"It was about you. Not me, _you_." She says, trying to make him understand the bigger picture.

"And don't you think that's a bit odd?" He asks, insinuation all over his words. It causes an instant flash of anger at how he isn't getting it.

"This isn't about you, Harvey! He asked because even **_he_** notices it. And that needs to change…starting now. Look, I'm not going to leave until… things are settled... here. But, when your name is on that door; _I'm gone_."

"Donna," he shakes his head like he does when she gives too much away and he can't rustle up the courage to say what's on his mind.

"Don't. I need to start my life, Harvey. You saved me, twelve years ago, and I'm grateful. But I have more than made up for that and now… I need to save **myself** this time."

The words are harsh, and she never expected to be saying them. But clear as day the moment was leading to this point. She gets that now.

"From me?" He asks. You can see by the look he's wearing just how deep his own words cut.

"No, Harvey. _From __**me**_. I'll see you in two weeks. Be nice to Cameron…He's not as much of a little pain in the ass as I thought." She says, not bothering to stay for his reply.

It had never felt like a break up between two seemingly single people until now.

* * *

London in a sentence is: Rain, Rain, Theatres, Rain, Buses and heavy foot traffic. It's a big city, but somehow less spread out than New York; with narrow walkways and little hidden streets; a traditional pub every 10 seconds champion even the Starbucks and Fast-Food Restaurants and an overwhelming array of tourist shops. She's grateful that Stephen will be providing a non-tourist view of the city; but she decided on booking a hotel anyway, just as a base. She figures she can have her cake and eat it; being that she can spend time with him in his apartment, but still take time for herself in her own space if and when she needed to. He seemed fine with the idea, being his usual easy-going self, and that way she would be able to test the inevitable waters of their currently undefined relationship. Of course, not the _Thames_ waters; which were murky and worse smelling than the Hudson; having truly lived up to its putrid reputation since the times of Shakespeare himself.

She had already found the Globe; a strange building along the Southwark edge of the river, that seemed so out of date compared to the overwhelming skyscrapers, Art Deco buildings and post-war brickhouses of the skyline. And indeed as Steve had said the London Eye was the most horrific thing she'd seen in a long while; however she still dragged him up there to get what was being hailed as the 'best view of the city'. Towards the afternoon he dragged her to a little pub tucked away in Covent Garden, called 'The Cross Keys'; a quaint pub covered completely in ivy and hanging flowers, which served various Old Ale's – one passion fruit flavoured, which smelled and tasted of her experimental college days – and the promise that every Friday, Opera Singers from the nearby famed Opera House would often rustle up a rendition over a Beer. Teamed with red lighting, a dingy and eclectic mix of memorabilia on the walls it made for an interesting way to spend a late lunch.

"This place is cute." She says, eyeing her beer with a suspicion for only the things that hold the possibily of a nasty surprise.

"It's a good one. You gonna drink that or keep pretending that it's not yours?" He asks, smiling at her obvious dislike towards her choice of beverage.

"Don't get me wrong. I drink Whiskey; I'm not shy of hard liqueur… but this 'Ale' is…" The rest of her sentence is swallowed in a grimace.

"Disgusting," He agrees, grinning. "I wasn't going to tell you, thought I'd let you find that out on your own. Much more fun."

"I gathered. Another…other, something else please." She mock-glares at him playfully from her end of the bar.

"Try mine." He says, pushing the Pint of Ale towards her. "It's milder, unlike that horrific specimen you have there."

She takes the Ale, taking one tentative sip, before analysing the taste. "It's a little better," She says diplomatically.

"Would like some wine?" He asks pointedly.

"No. Whiskey please…what do they have?"

"Glenmorangie is nice…orange flavoured?"

"I'll do it, anything is better than that. Double…on the rocks, thanks." She says to the old barman, as Stephen hands over a twenty.

"You don't seem like a Whiskey drinker?" He asks, intrigued by the orange coloured liquid in the glass, matching in a dance with the mismatched cubes of ice.

"Habit." She shrugs, taking a sip; feeling the slight sting and zesty flavour of the liquid.

"Where did you learn this _habit_, pray tell?"

"Well, it's the only thing that…Harvey keeps in his alcohol cabinet at work. Macallan 18."

"Ah. I should have known." He says, an ambiguous tone lingering there.

"I know; _everything is about Harvey_. It's just that I've spent…twelve years' worth of fifty hour weeks living in his world. He tends to rub off on you,"

"I can see that. Better?" He says, inferring the drink as he takes a sip of his own.

"Much; thank you. So, how are we going to spend the rest of the afternoon?" She changes the subject; a more than flirty look on her face hoping to divert the mood.

"Well… we could grab a bottle of wine, some food. Go to mine?" He offers, a smile gracing his lips.

"That sounds perfect." She smiles, downing the rest of the Whiskey in one go as she picks up her coat.

"Wow, you really can drink that." He says.

* * *

When she gets to Stephen's building, there's an overwhelming sense of deja'vu that's starting to annoy her.

"Let me guess… **_the Penthouse_**?" She glares.

"Is that a problem?" He asks, confused by her tone.

She shakes her head. "No…lead the way." She takes in a deep breath before entering the elevator.

She's relieved to find that Stephen is a little more interested in unusual décor than Harvey is. There are stucco paintings on the walls in large primary colours and a few urban looking pieces.

"I really like Street Art. It's fresh, inviting." He explains as he leads her into the open plan living area.

"Yeah, these are really bold pieces. I love them. Did you ever study art?" She asks, interest piquing.

"I dabble, a sketch here and there. My Dad's a curator so...a lot of influence."

"Oh where?"

"Oh, the National."

He mouth must be open because he's laughing at her again. "You're kidding, right?"

"No. And it's not as interesting as you'd think. A lot of old paintings. Not much room for diversity there."

"Still...that must be interesting. Are you parents sad that you never went into an Artisitc career?"

"They are happy I'm happy. But maybe...deep down. I think they're still living in the sixites." He shrugs, continuing to lead her around.

His colour scheme is richer than Harvey's; who lives in the blues, greys and silvers of a world full of light and technology. Stephen lives his day to day in rich reds and mauves and onyx.

She finds herself staring at a picture of New York City. "Well this one is a surprise."

He frowns, until his face seems apologetic, and then seems to iron out. "It's Dana's. She missed home when we lived here. And she never took it when we… I suppose, a photo is no comparison to the real thing. Either that or it was about what was _in_ New York." He muses. It occurs to her that he's so open, that it even takes her by surprise. Even when he's hurt he's not afraid. It's refreshing.

"Well, I'm not going to lie, I'm also thankful that there's not a picture of Harvey Specter on your wall." She grins.

"Wouldn't that be a twist." He jokes with a waggle of his eyebrows. "I'm more partial to rugged kind of man."

She laughs. "I'll keep that in mind,"

It's calming how the subject of Harvey isn't quite as much of a sore point as she would have thought. Or maybe she's not in touch with that side of his past just yet. She's not sure, but either way there don't seem to be any real secrets to get in the way. And no Harvey to get in the way, it seems. She sinks into his brown leather couch as he passes towards her, wine in hand.

"For the lady."

"Thank you kind Sir." She jokes, putting on a southern accent. "What are you going to cook for me by the way?"

"Something spectacular. It's going to be heated up, and taste vaguely okay." He states with a knowing smile.

"I can deal with that." She'd gotten over the realisation that neither of them were cooks long ago; their fifth date predominantly based on laughing at each other's inability to make a rue for a lasagne, and instead ended up ordering it in from a local Italian vendor.

She hears him put on the radio behind her, and it dawns on her…

_This could be her life. Relaxed, comfortable, open and new. _

* * *

Her phone beeps in the night. She reaches over the naked sleeping man and deletes the message without reading it. She catches the name of the sender and nearly throws the thing across the room. She settles for silently wording every swearword in the book.

* * *

More coming soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes:**

Huge thankyou to everyone who's fed so far. I'll try and get on with additional chapters for my other fics; this one is taking up most of my time due to upcoming Season 3.

* * *

**Suits **By Atheniandream

**Chapter 5**

* * *

"Do you really have to go back **now**?" He asks, his mouth forming into a little pout as his arms wrap around her.

"I know… don't make this harder than it already is," She says, a pressure building in the back of her cheeks that she's trying to hold back.

"I'm not," He assures her. "And I'm not trying to pressure you. But your absence here will be very greatly felt. That's all."

"You're so…_English_." She says looking up at him through the crumpling of her nose.

He knows she's only playing with him.

"I'm …sorry?" He says; a pretend frown on his face.

She laughs at him, playfully punching his arm and takes her bag out of his hands before he can use it as a bribe to stay. _He is a Lawyer after all._ She finds herself forgetting that fact on more than one occasion.

"Well, I better go. I'll call and let you know that the plane's not hit the ocean or landed on Manhattan…" She toys, a smile forming as she watches him roll his eyes at her obvious blaze attitude to travel.

"Come ere'," He says, the consonants rolling off the edge of his words as he pulls her into his arms. "I think I've fallen for you, Miss Paulsen. What are we to do about that?" He says the words so casually that she's not taken aback until the they process in her head. Her consciousness doesn't register to stop the urge in time when her eyes go wide and she stiffens in his arms.

"I…wow." Is all she manages to say; he notices immediately.

"Why do I think that was a bad thing to say? Obviously apart from that look on your face," He says, shaking his head at the growing swell of embarrassment.

"No….," She insists, rubbing his shoulders when she hears the slight disappointed edge to his voice. "It's was lovely…I liked hearing it. I'm just…taken aback."

"Very diplomatic," He says, placing a kiss on her temple.

"Hey." She says, pulling her face to his. "I'm not saying I don't…_feel something_…I just, don't often acknowledge those kind of…feelings. Does that make… _any_ sense?"

"Kind of; you better go or you'll be late." He says, succumbing to a similarly diplomatic tone.

She notices that he puts on a brave face, and it annoys her; the annoyance more at herself and her obvious inability to process a genuine feeling. It makes her think of Harvey again which stirs the anger she's been holding back.

"Oh, right, the plane. Of course." She kisses him quickly, turning to go. He catches her wrist and pulls her back in for what she will always refer to as a 'proper english kiss' – she's seen Hugh Grant doing it to Julia Roberts and many, many other women – before encouraging her to hustle to the gate.

"Don't be asleep when I call, Stephen Huntley." She eyes him, pointing a finger.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Donna Paulsen." He calls after her.

The moment she gets on the plane she orders a double whiskey; just to quash the thoughts in her head. But somewhere between waiting for the Whiskey and looking out the window into the fluffy grey clouds she realises,

It's time to seriously think about her future with this man.

* * *

She's late to the office for the first time in what seems like years, she's jetlagged and overslept for not sleeping enough and there is no time to get Harvey's morning coffee. Her hair is also doing that 'who-hoo' thing like she's auditioning for a new Charlie's Angels Pilot. She totters through the gates and sees the elevator about to open. She gets in and **_he_** slips in behind her along with several people before the doors shut with a clank.

She knows what he smells like; one of three possible colognes. Versace _Eros, _Davidoff _The Game and _Hugo Boss_. _She can smell the feint hints of mint, lemon and geranium lingering around her even though he's steps away...Versace. She holds back the urge to scowl as the pressure builds up in her gut; waiting for him to talk first.

He doesn't.

"Hey…" She says, giving in and managing a curt smile as she turns around to face him, meeting him halfway as he shuffles to stand next to her. She finds herself looking at his forehead, remembering how much taller than her he is. She's unsure of why the thought keeps popping into her head.

"Donna," His eyes double-blink; possibly at the fact that she's _still_ staring at his forehead.

"How was sunny London?" He asks.

She rolls her eyes at his dull tone. "It was good. And yes it rained the whole time I was there," She says in a similarly dull reply.

"…Good." There is an arrogant smile on his lips playing at their usually easy banter. If anyone cared to look deeper they would find the tension still so palpable; so raw with their last encounter. Half of her wants to laugh right in his face for good measure at the absurd tension.

The elevator opens on their floor and they both walk out amongst temps and fellow partners.

"How was work?" She asks. "Put out any fires whilst I was gone?" She tries at a playful tone, but he's rigid and unyielding in his suit with the slight smoulder he's got going on as he swaggers down the hall beside her.

"None that I know of," He says, his voice clipped.

"That doesn't feel me with much confidence, Harvey. Am I going to find a mountain of paperwork or _not_?"

"Cameron's handled everything." He says; the meaning vague and undefined. He walks slowly into his office.

"Well… fine." She calls after him.

There is stillness between them the size of a chasm. She's never felt so far away from him. It only dawns on her then how they'd left their last encounter.

She has the urge to sneak a look at him from the confines of her cubicle. Its juvenile and high school so she buries it deep down in her gut to fester over the day. But then he's by her side all of a sudden.

"Can I help you?" She asks, her tone still bordering a little on the knife edge of insolence, but mostly unsettled by catching her off-guard.

"I'm gonna go get a coffee. You want anything?" He asks, studying her features.

It's the first time in his life that he's **ever **asked her that. In twelve years. It's an instant shock.

She'd ask him what was wrong but she knows already.

"I, uh…no. I'm fine." She says, her eyes flicking back to the screen in front of her as her fingers follow in their usual tempo.

His hand, palm down comes into view beside her keyboard. "Do you want a Mocha?" He offers, containing a huff.

She eyes him curiously for a second, weighing up the possibility that she can fob him off. It appears that both of them are aware that she is being difficult. "Yes…Whipped cream. Thank you." She knows better than to ask for the skimmed milk, for the inconvenience of having to justify the whipped cream and the usual two sugars.

He smirks at her but doesn't say what's on his mind, instead casually wanders in the direction of the lobby.

The whole situation unnerves her. Again she doesn't question it; still part occupied by the slight headache and the woozy feeling of jetlag that overcomes her in waves.

When he returns with two coffees he's on his cell, talking animatedly whilst placing her coffee down. She watches with wide eyes as he pauses, still talking on the phone but looks at her, his gaze focused solely on her. She doesn't reach for it, so he picks it up, letting it hover next to the screen, still talking. Her breath catches in her throat as she tempers the giddy feeling it elicits, smiling with a faked condescension as she takes the Mocha he holds out with a snatch. He lets her have it and rolls his eyes but still there's the hint of grin, a shiny mirth behind the depth of his eyes.

She frowns, sensing a 'but' moment. On the cup it reads 'Harvey'.

She glares at him the whole way, watching as he walks to his chair with an arrogant satisfaction, still talking, still focused on the call.

Suddenly she realizes: Harvey Specter is playing with her. And: winning. _They're_ not playing; **_he_** is playing and suddenly **_she's_** the mouse. The idea is completely alien to their work relationship and even more to their completely false-starting personal relationship. She's never been the mouse before.

She huffs and decides that he's to be ignored until lunch; and that it's easier that way.

He smiles regardless, even when she's not looking.

* * *

She bolts to Rachel's office; hoping that she hasn't left for lunch already.

"Hey little lady; you hungry? I'm starving." She looks down at her friend; with mountains upon mountains of paperwork surrounding her desk.

"Donna! Hey!" She immediately gets up from her desk; hugging her friend. "I honestly thought you would never come back,"

"I told you Rach, it was a _holiday_."

"Did you enjoy it?" She asks.

"It was…good. Rained a lot. Theatre's were amazing," She smiles.

"Was Stephen…amazing?" She asked; a playful look on the young paralegal's face.

"Rachel." Donna warns, albeit humouring her friend.

"I'll take that as a yes. Tell me more." She says perching on the end of her desk as Donna takes a seat.

"London eye: Not too bad… good, no, great view. Food was diverse, lots to eat and I fell _in love_ with Soho. A lot of sex shops…but great bars…especially this Gay bar called 'Village' where men just dance half naked on the bar. You don't even have to go in; you can just stand outside with a coffee and watch. I think I might option myself as a beard next time, get a real local's tour of the place if you know what I mean."

Rachel laughs. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Do you know…when you'll be going?" She asks.

She should have known that Rachel would hit the nail on the head immediately. _No getting around that girl._

"It was going to be when Harvey gets his name on the door, but..." Her answer drops off at the end, unanswered.

"When?"

"I don't know Rach…I'm still thinking. Maybe a few weeks…maybe a month? I'm not sure yet." She says, unsure of whether she's lying or being honest.

But Rachel nods, seeming to understand. "I have to get back to things here; I have a lot of work tonight, but…drinks? Tomorrow?"

"Most definitely." She says; a lingering smile on her way out.

* * *

Her conversation with Rachel leaves her feeling dull as the possible finality of it all starts to set in. It feels so odd being back at work, and Donna finds her mind lingering on Stephen; lonely in a rainy city without her to even it all out with her dead pan humour and sarcasm for all of Britain's foibles. But then her eye catches Harvey, pacing in his office; Mike, running past her cubicle with a regimented tap and a wave; Louis even, lingering around her desk for stupid questions about the Queen and what Buckingham Palace looks like that she's overcome by a bullet worth of reason.

She remembers… New York is her city; even if Stephen is becoming her home.

An hour later, Harvey suddenly appears by her desk, with another Mocha in hand.

She looks up at him, full of irritation. "What's this?"

"You look tired." He answers.

Her face drops. "Thankyou for pointing _that_ out." She says, childishly snatching the coffee.

"You're welcome…snatchy." He arches his brow, but his features soften.

There is a conflict about him; as he watches her. She knows that Harvey is playing on the fact she hasn't made her choice yet. He knows it. She knows it. She can feel it; the ticking of a clock to his impulses; the way his gaze lingers without emotion; the fact that he's bought two coffees for her today. That's never happened in a million years and they are both aware of it. The worst thing is that she can't bring herself to ask the questions 'why' and 'how' he's managed to change the habits of a lifetime but all the same they are burning holes in her imaginary pockets. She wishes that she could be brave but then she remembers… that_ that_ is not who they are… _Brave with each other_. She is brave for him, and he is brave for the world; but they are not brave for each other.

But she wants to be brave with Stephen. Even if she can't be brave for herself, just yet.

She's not sure if it's the revelation or the look in her Boss's eyes but suddenly the words fall out.

"I'm going to say 'yes.'" She suddenly says. His attention sharpens. For a moment he looks shocked at the words but he knows what she's inferring.

"I thought you already did…?" He asks.

"I'd like us to discuss…notice. When you have the time." She says the words with a tenderness that she rarely reserves for him.

He merely nods in response; slowly walking back into his office.

He doesn't ask for anything for nearly four hours.

* * *

This time she finds herself in the file room; in a mix of boxes and past reports of a case that Harvey is thinking of rehashing. With work still being what it is, and Mike no longer an option it is now her job to pick up the slack. With her body waning and a wish to go home; the afternoon drags like an old donkey is attached to her back.

She is not surprised when he comes to find her.

"You still here?" He asks, tempering her possible reactions as he lingers in the aisles.

"Well, we can't afford slacking now that Mike and his photographic memory isn't around," She says.

Her tone is harsher than she meant but no less honest.

"Yeah. About that… maybe you're right." He says. It almost pains him to say the word right, even with her.

"Harvey, I'm mostly always right." She directs her gaze towards him; a knowing look that he shakes his head at; hating how she is right and not letting him down easy. "But..." She says.

"I'm going to speak to him tomorrow. Maybe…" He says.

"Well, you better…I don't know how long I'll be here for." The words fall out again; this time without any warning.

"So that notice was…?" He says.

"Final…Harvey." She says. It cuts to say it, but it's time she grew accustomed to the decision.

"Right... I'll corner him tomorrow." He says. His jaw sets.

"Good." She doesn't like where the moment is leading; she can see him emotionally reaching and today is not the day she wants to be having this kind of conversation… "I should go."

As she turns, he seems stunted. She ignores it. "Goodnight Harvey," She smiles cordially, walking past.

A part of her thinks that he's going to make a grab for her. He doesn't. Her walk out of the building is filled with fantastical possibilities that she will drown away with alcohol later.

* * *

When he beats her to her apartment, leaning against the limo in waiting, his features chiselled against the dim lighting; it's an annoying comparison.

"I'm having de'ja vu. Did I get fired again?" She bites, flapping her arms slightly as she makes her way towards the building.

When she looks at him his face is different this time. He's not coming here with his tail between his legs and a favour to ask. His eyes are steely and he's clearly stressed. She can't take two weeks away without him getting irritated. There's something Film Noir about his suit, crisp and seemingly untouched, the dark limo, the smoke rising out of the storm grates into the white beamed air and the dark look on his face as he watches her, without a word. If she had been wearing red lipstick and a 50's wave the moment would have been perfect.

"What Harvey? I'm tired. And still a little jetlagged,"

He's suddenly walking towards her, then stops, poised, ready to say something. She can tell by his hands that he's willing something to come out like he's an emotional mute. _Which he is…_

"I can't do this without you and **I meant it**. I said I needed you and **I meant it**. I know I can't ask you to put your life on hold, but I will do _anything_, to keep you."

A heavy lump rises in her throat, stopping her to really think through what he's saying.

"Harvey… I've made my decision. This is a non-negotiable." She folds her arms to keep herself from giving anything away.

"Bullshit. Everything is a negotiation." He states.

"What if I love him, Harvey?" She fires.

For a second the question puts a dent in his flawless cool exterior.

"Do you…_love_ him?" He asks.

"I could…" She challenges. She feels guilty towards Steve for using the idea like that, but it's not so far from the truth. She could love him. _She could already love him if this pain of a man wasn't..._

"But you don't." He says.

"How do you know?" She reacts, irritated at his assumption.

"Because I know that deep down, you love _me_. However much you pretend you don't, we both know that you love **me**."

There's an echo in her head all of a sudden. And he seems so casual when he says it. It reminds her of when he got her back; how he challenged that her lack of admittance had been a confirmation of loving him then.

"You know what; sometimes you can be such a…dick!" It's the first time in years that she's called him that. She used to have such a potty mouth. _So she has grown up..._ He is unfazed.

"I'm not trying to be arrogant," He says, trying to justify his words.

"Then you much just have a talent for it." She flaps, shaking her head. It's a miracle she's still out here. Even when she got fired, he managed to keep her attention outside her apartment, on the sidewalk. It's a habit of them both, his demands and her compliance.

He takes a step forward.

"You love me." He repeats.

"Why do I keep hearing this? Why do people insist on keep telling me like it's some _fact_?" She treats the word as if it's dirty on her tongue.

"It's a fact. You _are_ in love with me…" He says, almost figuring it out for himself just by the flighty way her eyes seem to flick, unfocused between his and the sporadic foot traffic around them.

"Regardless of how I've already told you that I love you like a **houseplant**, and you're disregarding that entire fact right now, don't you think, that seeing as you don't love me, if it were true I wouldn't want anyone to ever point out this…_fact_ ever again… **especially** **after the last time**?"

"Is that your way of admitting that you're in love with me?" He smiles softly at her.

_This is no time to be cute…_

"Harvey. Look…regardless of how much of an ass you're being, regardless of how I may or **_may not_** feel about you, you **don't** feel the same way. So why would what I say even matter?"

"_Because_…and you're saying 'regardless' a lot."

"That's it? Because? You're willing to stop me from being genuinely happy with another guy, thinking you know how I feel about you…just _because?_"

His face falls. "Donna, you know I'm not…good at this." It's the first thing he's said to her without the falsity of bravado propping him up.

"Really, because you seem so practised and smooth at it." She fires at him.

"I…care about you. And I don't want you to go."

"Of course you don't, you'll have to find a replacement as good as me and that'll never happen."

"It's not that. I…" His face falters. "I don't know how to be here without you anymore."

"Harvey, you're a big boy, you'll figure it out." She says, making for the door.

"Maybe I don't want to."

It stops her dead. And it's probably the mostly insanely romantic thing anyone's ever said to her. She turns slowly, but the pace of her words are still slightly erratic for her heart beating in her chest.

"**That's** the problem. I'm like the 50's housewife. You care about me and you value me being there; but I'm not the beautiful mistress that you chase after and go to bed with every night. And that would be fine…in the fifties. But this is 2013, Harvey, and mamma needs to get laid."

He laughs at that, shaking his head at her obvious crudeness.

She walks towards him.

"This…is not healthy for either of us, Harvey. I think you know that." She was trying to rip off the band aid for them both. It wasn't just about feelings anymore. It was about their seamless connection to one another. "I have to get on with my life now. He can make me happy."

She sees something. Panic. He never panics, not since his father died.

"Look…maybe we should just…get a room. Try again? See if there is something there that wasn't there…the other time. If I remember, it's was you, not me who put a sto-"

"I can't believe you're actually suggesting this and you **promised** you'd never mention the other time!" She almost shouts.

"It's important now." His voice is solid, commanding. "If that's what you want now, maybe we should…check it out."

"You know, the way you make it sound, it's like I'm this ogre. No way."

"Donna, you're beautiful. You know that; but it's not about that…it's about seeing if we're-" His arms gesticulate in an effort to explain.

"I don't like where this is going."

"-compatible." He finishes. "**I'm serious**."

"I'm not some Science Experiment!" She shouts. She's pretty sure that the whole of her building knows she's outside by now.

"Will you just hear me out?!" He shouts back.

For a second it brings her down. She looks at him; her resolve falling down a layer.

"You really want to do this?" She asks him; her tone was more a accusing than it was a question.

"I'm willing to try. If you're willing?"

The possibilities in his eye completely throw her.

"This goes against every work code you have," She reminds him.

"I know. But it's **you**. I…"

The lingering 'I' worries her. She cuts him off immediately.

"How do you know that it's what I want? Do you even know what I want?"

"More than you think,"

"This is definitely the weirdest conversation we've ever had…" She mutters to herself.

"If nothing comes of it…then I'll let you go and….find as good a replacement as I can." He says.

The look in his eyes seems sincere. She can't be sure though, and it leaves her unsure.

"This seems like a really bad idea."

"Maybe,"

"What happens if… something comes of it?"

"Then…we talk it out. And we change what we have to."

His openness is like salt on wounds.

"This is a really bad idea." She says, backing away a little as he tries to level the gap.

"It's our only option."

"I would like another option."

* * *

I'm probably going to post another in the next day, as the next part is already written.

Please feed, always great to hear your thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes: Okay, I hope you enjoy. MANY THANKS to everyone who's fed and all your comments. I love writing these guys, it's a minefield! 3**

* * *

**'SUITS' By Atheniandream**

* * *

**Chapter 6 **

* * *

_This is crazy. This is insane…this is clearly the worst idea in the world…._

_I…what are we doing…? _

* * *

It was more apparent when she'd bought a dress on his corporate card that this really _was_ the stupidest idea Harvey had ever thought up. It went against his work ethic, his code, and pretty much every objection he'd ever made towards Mike's personal life choices. _Talk about hypocrisy…_

But somehow, they were at a stalemate; with her finally done with having nothing except work in her life, and Harvey's sudden desperation at losing her constant presence; he had chosen the one moment that she'd started to be happy without him to throw it all up in the air. She'd been immediately offended that he would consider this idea as some sort of clinical experiment. But it only made sense that they saw how deep their mutual if not supposedly unmatched feelings towards one another ran. She had decided that he couldn't inadvertently hurt her any more than he had done already, _what would another day do to them? _

And even though she and Stephen had grown close in the past few months, they hadn't talked much about exclusivity; on the contrary he'd admitted as much in London. Deep down she knew that Stephen wasn't the type to put a box around them; for that she was eternally grateful. For one, they lived on opposite sides of the world. It was impractical and she assumed that her decision to emigrate would be the defining turn of their relationship. However, if he were ever to find out that she and Harvey were about to do whatever it was that they were about to do then she would probably never see him again and Harvey would forever be the man that took away _two_ women in Stephen Huntley's life.

But this time, Harvey was forcibly putting himself in that position. It was out of her hands now, however much she'd objected.

In some ways, to fall in love with Stephen would be the best possible outcome.

But here she was, in front of her bedroom mirror, trying not to be scared out of her mind. Yet again, on the knife edge of betraying a man for her Boss on the whim of a possibility she wasn't even sure existed.

She'd chosen a midnight blue gown, sweeping off of one shoulder and fifties waves, teamed with earrings that Harvey had bought her back when he had a much more frivolous nature; art deco in style, large gold fans with little emeralds on the tips. She'd always hidden them away, embarrassed the moment he'd given them to her, fearing that she'd have to answer questions about how she'd gotten them if she'd ever been brave enough to wear them out of the house. The moment she'd opened the box she'd told him never to buy her jewellery again. Over the years they'd settled on expensive handbags instead; and then she'd come to expect the latest design from the latest line every time he got a big win. A handbag was impersonal to the person giving it, and personal to the person receiving it. It matched their relationship with a perfect symmetry; and so it had stayed that way ever since.

She hears the buzz on her intercom. "Hello?" She calls, flicking the switch.

"It's me." She recognises the distinct drawl in his voice.

"Come on up." She strains the words; ignoring the butterflies threatening like heavy moths in her stomach.

She checks herself in the mirror once more and suddenly the dread of doubt wedges up between her lungs.

When she opens the front door, she kicks herself inside for not expecting it.

"Flowers?" She questions, suspiciously cocking her head to one side as if the gesture warranted an explanation.

"Your favourite." He shrugs, sure of himself.

He was right. She _loved_ Peonies; especially in Peach.

"This isn't a **date**, Harvey." She warns, her lips pursing.

"It… kind of is. We're just…_trying each other on_ _for size_." He replies lightly, looking effortlessly pleased with himself.

"Really? A fashion analogy?" She challenges.

"I thought you'd like it," He says with a small smile.

"Fine. Thankyou." She says, taking them into the kitchen. He hears her running a tap but lingers at the doorway.

"Now…was that so hard?" He asks as she returns.

"Shut up. Let's get this 'date' over with." She rolls her eyes, grabbing her clutch.

"You look beautiful by the way." He says, mimicking her tone.

"You paid for it." She eyes him once again. It's another challenge she throws at him.

"I'd expect no less. I have great taste." He says, steadily looking her up and down for good measure.

"You don't…look so bad yourself," She says, a smile peeking as they get into the elevator.

"I look hot. You can say it."

"Ugh. Don't make me regret this." She says, walking ahead of him.

When they step outside, her face crinkles into a frown. "Where's Ray?" She asks, looking up and down the street for the familiar man in the familiar limo.

"I thought that tonight…we should eliminate any notion that we actually work together." He says; the wariness of his answer betrayed between the words.

It occurs to her that he's actually taken the time to think about the so-called 'date'.

"Okay, but I don't know what you expect me to say for the 'small talk' part of this 'date'."

"We'll make up stories." He says.

As he holds out his hand, the lights flash on a silver sports car to her left.

"You made your **own** phone call to the Gotham Car club?" She asks incredulously.

"I wanted the Tesla." He replies, an almost 'Harvey Specter' shrug rippling out of his jacket.

"Maybe you don't need me after all?" She says, trying to hold back how impressed she is.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that." He says, placing a hand on her back as he leads her to the car.

* * *

She'd tried her hardest not to snoop that day, just in case he'd actually decided to make a reservation somewhere in town; or if he had in fact decided that it _was_ a horrific idea to tread old water. But, deep down a strange part of her actually wanted to keep it a surprise.

It occurs to her, as he's driving that she's never seen him like this before. Like a man taking a woman out for the night. If she wasn't the woman it would be fascinating to watch. He's suave and he's not even trying; shifting gears quickly, expertly, like he does this every day; his shrewd gaze focused solely on the zipping yellow, blue and red lights of overzealous traffic around them. There's a flawlessness about him that for the first time she wants to turn into complete disarray. At work it's necessary; but in a moment like this it's intimidating and almost hyper-real. It plays on her irritability and the only thing stopping her from poking the 'cool' out of him is her strong aversion to death-by-car-crash. So she sits, quietly supressing the urge to mess up his hair and tell him how he drives like a twenty year old speed demon in a forty year old body.

They pull up on East 12th Street and she spies the logo for the 'Gotham Bar and Grill'.

"I sense a theme, Batman…" She jokes as the door opens on her side and she grabs her clutch.

"They do a good steak…Catwoman; stay there;" He says, opening his door when he sees her start to get out of her side. "You won't make it out of the car with that _dress_ on."

"Oh, won't I?" She says, an eyebrow rising as she looks at his hand with suspicion.

"Will you just listen to me... for once?" He asks firmly, looking down at her, his hand gesturing for hers.

"Okay. But just once…twice is asking too much." She replies as she takes his hand and he pulls her to standing; making them inches closer. There's a strange, air-filled moment between them, their eyes making the briefest of contact. She looks down to see he's still holding her hand. She's thankful when he steps back enough to give her some space, their hands dropping heavily before he leads her through the doors of the restaurant.

"I have a reservation... under Specter?" Harvey says to the Usher; who merely nods and leads them immediately into the dining hall. The restaurant is classic, with large white and cream lampshades hanging above mahogany trimmed woodwork and magnolia walls. It's light and open and the air is oddly cool for such a busy night.

They are seated on a table in the corner, away from the rows and rows of single tables. It's nice not to be crammed in; considering that there are so many people in the large room already. She takes a seat, and it occurs to her that Harvey seems…a little…_nervous_? Or maybe he's rethinking the whole idea, which gives her an insistence for the wine list as it plops into her hands with a welcomely timed precision.

"Okay," She sighs, the word coming out long and drawn out. As she huffs it gains his attention; his eyes rising above the menu.

"You okay over there?" He asks lightly.

"I'm hot. Is it hot? Or is it just me? I'm…hot." She rambles.

"You're definitely hot…but it's actually quite cool in here." He jests, a neutral 'gamed' expression on his face.

"Funny." She glares over the wine list at him.

"Donna?" He says her name in that way that gets her attention.

"Hmm?"

"Just… **breathe**. We're _just_ having dinner. That's all."

"I can't help it…this feels…_odd_. I can't get comfortable." She says, fixing her dress.

"You can. We've had dinner together before. You just need a drink and then you'll be fine." He assures her.

It's completely unnatural for him to be placating her like this. It feels like her skin is on fire; gently rouging against the vibrant blue of her dress and the orange glow of her hair.

"Waiter; Two Macallan 18s, neat on the rocks, one with a _twist_ and a bottle of the uh…Moulin Rouge 2009, thank you. And could you hustle on the Whiskeys; the lady needs a stiff drink." He finishes, taking the moment to glance at her still fidgeting form.

"Certainly," The Waiter says, disappearing.

"'_Moulin Rouge'_?" She queries, her hands coming around her waist as she breathes out slowly.

"It's a very nice wine. Are you…okay?"

She glances up in time to see a genuine look of concern on his face.

"Yeah…"

"I must be the only thing in the world that rattles you." He says; half to himself, a serious note in his voice.

"Yep; that and _Spiders_."

"Comforting,"

No sooner than he's ordered, another Waiter appears with the Whiskey.

"Macallan 18 with a twist?" The young man asks. It focuses her head just hearing the words.

"Thank you." Donna indicates, as the Waiter puts the drink down in front of her and the other next to Harvey.

As soon as the Waiter leaves, she picks up the amber liquid, watching it rock gently from side to side, before swigging half of it like a shot.

"Better?" He asks, humour in his voice.

"Nearly," She answers, rocking her tumbler gently against the heel of her palm.

"Do you remember the last time we went to dinner?" He asks.

"What was it…my birthday? Didn't I spill red wine all down your suit?"

"Yes. _Poured_, more like. And it was the entire bottle in your hand."

"The guy bumped me!"

"You were _drunk_." He insists.

"I was **not** drunk." She objects.

"Well then your true calling was missed because your 'drunk' acting is flawless,"

"You call _that_ bad? Our second year at Pearson Hardman; you got so wasted at that Sportsbar we went to that I had to _drag_ you home. Henry thought I was your date; and I couldn't leave because you couldn't make it to your bedroom. That's when I learnt how great your couch was."

"You could have just come to bed,"

"Harvey,"

"I don't remember that," He says, sheepishly behind his tumbler of whiskey.

"Of course you don't! _I do_. Surveillance got paid off that day, that's for sure."

"You paid off security?" He looks at her; trying to piece together the recollection.

"You can't have a tape like that wandering around. Not when you're ex-DA, Harvey."

"I can't have been that bad!" He scoffs, sipping his drink.

"Harvey, you face planted the lobby; _several_ times. At one point, I actually considered picking you up like a baby. But you're deceptively heavy…so I had Henry help me drag you to the elevator. I pretty much had to undress you too, and that is **not** part of my job description."

"Like you didn't take a peek," He eyes her disbelievingly.

"Not all of us are letches, Harvey." She smiles wickedly at him.

"I'm not a **letch**." He replies, unfazed.

"Tell that to the letch brigade."

He grins at her, a laugh bubbling in his chest all the way to his eyes.

"If anyone is a letch, it's Louis." He says behind the glass of his tumbler.

"Nooo…" There's an edge of pity in her voice through a strangled laugh. "He just… falls in love; _a lot_."

"He stares; blindly."

"He's never stared at me." She states.

"Then he's _gay_."

She laughs at his deadpanned comment.

"Harvey," She chides.

"You're…buxom. He has to be gay if he doesn't notice."

"Ugh, I hate that word…_Buxom_. You know in the dictionary it means 'fat'?"

"Don't you mean the thesaurus?"

"Jerk. You know what I mean,"

"Voluptuous?"

"'Polite fat'."

"Are you ever going to let anyone pay you a compliment?" He says, his voice raising.

He was right, kind of. With Harvey, any genuine compliment was always met with a slapped back retort. She couldn't take many parts of their relationship seriously these days; which made her being here with him all the weirder.

"When you say it in a way that doesn't annoy me then maybe I'll accept it." She says delicately.

"Okay. You have a great body. And know how to dress it up. It used to be a…distraction."

"Used to be?" She says, a crack in her words.

It's news to her. He's never really commented on how she looked. At least in the last 7 years she'd considered that in his eyes she was one of the most ample breasted androgynies in Manhattan. Either that or he had some sort of breast-blindless.

"Admit it…after thirteen years or working together, we work a certain way. It's only when someone else comes in that things start to get in the way. Like you and Scottie."

"Don't you mean _you_ and Scottie?" She fires back at him; that devilish look in her eyes.

"Donna…you know what I mean…"

The muscles in her face immediately sharpen; but he's being honest, and she tries to remember that fact.

"**_That_** was different…she tries to play you, every time. And had I known that she just… fell in love with you then I wouldn't have been so…" She struggles to find the word.

"Cold?" He offers.

"Wary." She corrects.

"Blunt." He redefines.

"Protective." She argues.

"Then how do you explain Zoe?"

The word has her back straightening into rigid line against the seat.

"What about her?" She asks; her eyes widening instantly.

"You were on that situation like it was your job."

"I just wanted you to be happy, Harvey."

He rolls his eyes. It occurs to her that for some reason, all of a sudden he can see straight through her. _Maybe he always has..._

"You jumped. The moment that you knew it was going somewhere, you jumped. Until it ended and then you were back to yourself." He states, pointing his tumbler vaguely in her direction.

"I did not." She objects, rolling her eyes and takes another sip of the Whiskey to drown the accusation.

"I'm not accusing you, Donna. But I noticed. It bothered you, that's why you were on every detail, especially when I tried to keep it from you. You were… jealous."

He looked at her liked gotten her, _hook line and sinker_. She could either play what he was saying down; or be honest as well. She felt completely naked in the moment; no amount of Whiskey could cover that.

"I wanted you to be happy. But…you always looked at her differently to how you did anyone else in your life. I suppose, I was… worried, maybe overprotective of my role in your life. I didn't want to lose that."

"You'll always have the best place in my life. Donna. You should know that by now."

"See, you say that. But…when **you** find someone who becomes a possibility…things start to change. A woman is going to want to be in a certain part of your life. All the things that _I_ take care of, they're going to want to be a part of that too. If you and Zoe had become serious it would have changed a lot of things."

"And you and Stephen?"

"I don't…" She falters. Her breath catches and she frowns at the image in her head.

He seems to understand, leaning forward. She can feel his shoe touch at the tip of hers.

"I trust you with everything, Donna." He says.

Her foot moves, away from his and she sits back. "What about Zoe? There's always the future, you know. She could come back."

His jaw tightens. "That ship has sailed," He says.

Her eyes glaze at the intensity of his stare. His eyes falter and he picks up the menu.

"And we should order." He says.

She settles on the Muscovy Duck whilst Harvey, being Harvey goes for the New York Steak.

They order a second Whiskey as the wine settles in and the mains arrive; and it starts to work; the thick molten liquid burning any butterflies to the bottom of her stomach and straight to ash. It hadn't taken that long for them to relax with each other. She could see how they'd both changed so much from when they'd first met that they were almost completely different with each other. Sure, she still pushed him and he still rose to the occasion, but since the memo fiasco, their tenuous relationship had echoed the beginning of the end of their time together, as if they were constantly fighting against the inevitable moment that she had now become responsible for.

She glances at him through her wine, catching him in a rare moment of quietness as his mind lingers in front of her. His eyes squint for a second, focused on the corner of the table, the mole above his left eye moving as his eyebrows furrow gently.

She doesn't ask what's on his mind; too satisfied to just sit from her side of the table and watch the cogs turn in his head. She's always been a people watcher; it's one of the reasons why she's always managed to dig up dirt when it's needed. It's easier to listen if you're good at watching for the signs. There's something that he's hiding. Maybe he's always hidden something from her and she's only just realised.

She's not sure if it's the wine or their sudden impulse for honest sharing; but there's something lingering just to the left of her chest that catches her attention.

"What?" He asks, snapping out of his reverie.

She just smiles. "…Nothing." She says, taking another sip of wine and lets the thick warm sensation do the trick. That's another thing they share; the ability to just exist with each other; quietly and without contempt or words threatening to come out. They can just sit, without the threat of it becoming awkward...most of the time.

She doesn't know if its love, but it's definitely something else.

"Things have changed, haven't they?" He says.

"With us?" She implies.

"With _everything_."

"Work will get better," She says.

"It feels like we're swimming against the tide constantly. I don't like losing everything...or anything."

"I gathered that." She finds a small smile appearing. "It will get better, Harvey." She tries to reassure him.

"Honestly, I don't know if I can take much more," He rubs at his face in frustration.

She leans forward, concern etched into her face. "Don't give up now. We've worked so hard."

"But…If you're not gonna be there…I don't have anybody else."

The words crack her like she's made of glass.

"That's not an excuse for me to stay, Harvey." Her words are tender, but only vaguely supportive. "I'm not trying to leave **you**…I'm trying to go somewhere."

"I know." He says.

Their conversation leaves open-ended, a silence filling them both once more but with the tension creeping gradually between them.

She wants to tell him everything will be okay, and that she's not going anywhere, but she's not sure she can answer that now. Everything is so up in the air.

That weird sensation in the left side of her chest flutters once more.

* * *

It only occurs to her when they exit the restaurant, that he is holding her left hand. She hadn't even noticed when he'd taken it, or if she'd reached for his; only that the restaurant had gotten so loud and busy that they had nearly lost each other when they'd left their table; and she'd become so used to the feel of it, warmed and wrapped in his at the coat check that when he finally lets go to pull his phone out of his pocket, she is left with a cold absence that sits oddly in her stomach.

"Where's the car?" She asks, confused.

"I had them pick it up. We've been drinking so… we can take a cab?" He offers, his hand now flagging the nearest ride.

"Sure." She nods.

He grabs one instantly and opens the door, letting her slide in first before following.

"Where to…?" The cabbie calls into the back.

"I have an idea…" She says suddenly, watching Harvey's interest pique as a devilish glint in her eyes betrays the thought.

"Yeah?" Harvey asks.

"Driver, East 157th Street." She calls to the front.

"Which end?"

"Right in the Middle will do us just fine, thankyou."

"We're going to the Bronx?" He says the last word as if it's a blaspheme.

"I think we need to let off some steam." She answers.

"In the Bronx? Really?" He repeats.

"Trust me." She says. He doesn't say another word after that, just sits back.

Her hand is still colder than the other.

* * *

When they pull up at the destination, Harvey is even more suspicious.

"Baseball?" He queries.

"I made a call." She shrugs.

"Did you now," His hands find his pockets as he waits, a slight wind around him causing a chill to rise up his back.

She smiles coyly at him, dialling into her phone as the Cabbie speeds off into the night.

"Hey, Roger. You got my message? Thank you sweetheart…okay, see you in five."

"_Sweetheart_…?"

"What, he is?"

"Fancy hitting a few…Slugger?" He enquires.

"Maybe… _you_?" She asks; a hopeful look on her face.

"After the last ten months? Yes…_Wait_, how did you…?"

"I'm Donna, I-"

"-I might have guessed." He interrupts. It's an answer that he's become accustomed to.

He looks at her with that expression that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end; similar to the look he gives her when she's gotten one over on him except this time the frustration is replaced with intrigue.

Five minutes later Roger, the portly man with a rounded, kind looking face has opened the gates and handed her a large bag in exchange for a kiss on the cheek and a bag of small cookies that Donna has apparently had in her clutch the entire night. At one point, Harvey actually takes her bag to check what else she's hiding in there before his face is covered in questions.

"You never know when you might need a cookie! Give me that thing," She replies as if the answer is obvious, snatching her bag back.

"Macombs Dam Park…I used to come here all the time when I was younger," He muses, looking across the huge darkened field as he takes off his jacket.

"I know. Why do you think I have Roger on tap? I also know where you box too. I'm a spy."

"Or a stalker?" He infers.

"Get over yourself…it's my job." She huffs, looking out onto the field as the huge flood lights start to light up one by one.

"You are very good at it. If you go to London though…"

Her tone is immediately annoyed. "Don't close me, Harvey." She shoots at him.

He gives in, softening once more. "Okay."

"So, we gonna hit something or what?" She changes the subject, her face lighting up.

"Ladies first," He gestures, picking out a bat from the bag.

She rolls her eyes, taking the bat from him before measuring up to the mark.

"Wait, you're gonna bat in your shoes?"

"I can do a lot of things in these heels, Harvey."

"…Like…?" He asks.

"…Like…?" She waits for the innuendo, scowling at him.

"You can't make a statement like _that_ and not elaborate!" He throws his hands in the air, revelling in her.

She rolls her eyes, the alcohol clearly rounding of the edges of her deductive reasoning.

"I haven't done this in a very long time," She warns, dropping the bat, hooking up her dress and twisting it into a loose knot just above her knees. With that, she straightens, arms coming out at the sides and her feet coming together in a dance position he vaguely recognises. She winks at him, before expertly pirouetting on the spot; her Manolos treading dust as she spins, once, twice, three times and a fourth. As she stops, her dress falls down, kicking up the dust once more. When she looks back to Harvey, he has a grin on his face.

"Well, you got me." He says.

"Can we bat now?" She asks, blowing her hair out of her face.

"We can do whatever you want."

* * *

"You're not hitting it right." He says; playful frustration in his voice.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"I used to play for the Minors; let me..." He says, shaking his head at her as he comes up behind her. She stiffens as his arms come around hers, moving her fingers so that they grip the handle tighter. His rolled up sleeves betray the hair on his arms that tickle at hers.

"Okay, widen your gait, and keep your knees inside." He says, casually tapping her leg.

"Is this just so you can look up my dress?"

"If I wanted to look up your dress, I'd just **look up your dress**. This is baseball. Pay attention." He says, nudging her.

She complies, standing a little wider. He continues with the lesson, making sure with every word that she's listening. "You need to keep your back foot in your mind; you need to turn your hips and twist your back foot as you hit the ball. It's called 'squishing the bug', but try not to focus on the..bug. The back foot will aid your swing. Keep the bat straight as you prep. Got it?"

"You're gonna make me run in these aren't you?"

"If you manage to hit the damn ball, then… _maybe_," He walks to the thrower's pitch. "Okay…I'm gonna throw it. You ready?"

"I was born read-y, Specter." She wiggles a little, holding the bat.

He rolls his eyes at her, playing with the ball in his hands.

She gets ready, hands firm around the bat as she eyes him from the catcher's mount and focuses. There's something very 50's baseball about him, standing on the mount. An elegance; a fluidity; a grace that she notices more and more in this environment. She realises that this is where he could have been…happy…really happy. Harvey Specter the baseball player and Donna Paulsen the Golden Era Actress. They'd have fit perfectly in the 50's. She forgets that sometimes they've both settled; no matter how high they've climbed.

"Okay hotshot, show me your best." She goads him.

"I'll start off sweet." He assures her.

Her attention slows, watching him gradually bring his right hand back behind him, his wrist fluid as he pitches the ball. She sees it, focuses and swings; the loud crack of the ball against the hardwood snapping as the ball flies through the air with a timed urgency.

He runs.

She runs.

She manages to run to second base, a girlish giggle of a laugh as she skitters against the sandy earth. She can hear a shift behind her; a switch in the air that she knows is _him_. Her heart is hammering against her chest as she tries to sprint to third; her arms swinging and blue silk flying as she propels herself past third and onwards, never looking back once but a huge grin spreading on her face. She hears him closing in on her, his polished shoes catching dust as he sprints close by.

"I'm getting to fourth, I'm getting to fourth!" She shouts, high pitched and thready from the running. His hand ghosts hers and she lunges, hoping the last few inches can be met. His arm catches her waist and they tumble to the ground, dust and dirt flying around them as he lands on top of her, a muddle of arms and legs and laughing against one another. He has her pinned, the ball in one hand and looking extremely pleased with himself that he's stopped her. She looks back, her view obscured, upside down but no less aware of the last base inches away still.

"Never to fourth," She mutters, her face finding his. He hears every word and his expression is all challenge. She relaxes, closing off to him and his face falters as she scrambles and he lets her up. "We should…go. Roger's…waiting to close up, I expect." She says clinically.

"There's always someone…" He mutters after her, grabbing his coat.

* * *

Their cab ride is quiet; both wearing mottled clothes and covered head to toe in dust and dirt. Her hair is everywhere and she's pretty sure she's ripped her dress; but it's his money, so she decides not to worry about it tonight. He's looked more unkempt than she's ever seen; his hair is sticking up a bit and his sleeves are rolled up; top button undone and his tie looking more like Mike's than his own. _If the kid were here he'd have a field day_. She has an impulse to straighten it all out until it occurs to her…for once, that it's all for a good reason; not a bad one. She can see the way he shuffles that he's thinking about his appearance. It's his shield; that unblemished, refined look, like it's arming him against not only the day-to-days of the world but everything else in his life.

"Harvey?" She says, barely audible.

"Hmm?"

"You look…good."

"I'm dirty." He frowns.

"It'll wash out." She touches his shoulder; and whether it's the slight alcohol induced haze or the adrenaline still coursing through her body or even how tired she really is; for some reason it actually feels like a natural gesture for them. She frowns.

"You know… I've missed this." She says.

"Missed what?" He asks her, his brow furrowing.

"_This_. When we were younger and reckless and spent time together. Even just as _friends_. We used to have fun, until we got over serious about achieving everything."

"Work took over all right," He agrees, drawing in a long breath.

"It also drew lines in the sand." Her eye spies her apartment coming up. "Just here," She indicates to the taxi driver. She hands him the money before Harvey even has time to blink.

As he walks her to her door, the Taxi driver drives off.

"I guess he's not waiting." Donna says, glaring after the cab. She looks at Harvey who merely shrugs, unfazed.

"I'll get another." He says, his coat thrown over his shoulder. He continues their previous conversation.

"Drew lines in the sand?" He asks.

"What we could and couldn't do. Even just as friends."

"You may be right about that," His hands end up in his pockets, his face thoughtful. "Are we…?"

"Putting it off?"

"Yeah…?"

"…Kind of." She sighs beside herself. "I didn't even want to come tonight." She admits. The slight fog of alcohol swirls in her head, slowing down her thoughts. "I kept thinking… about Stephen, and about how this is not us_; you and me_. We don't do this; we don't cheat, we don't push real boundaries with each other..."

"I never used to. But then, as Mike pointed out recently; I've done a lot of things that I would never have condoned a year ago."

"Who are we?"

"Us? I don't know…"

"Maybe we are just…very, **very** good friends." She half said to herself, the thought playing on her. Her lips are dry, so she licks them absent-mindedly. She misses his gaze dropping to them.

"Maybe…" He says; the words lost somehow. "Look I'm going to…be a gentleman, just for tonight." He says.

For a second she wonders what he's doing, as he gets steps towards her, his lips moving closer to hers she starts to panic until they pass hers and he places a soft kiss to her cheek. Her cheeks burn.

"Goodnight Donn-" His words are silenced by her lips, the tang of whiskey lingering between them both as her tongue hungrily parts his lips. Her hands end up only as far as his chest, resting on it between them. He kisses her back almost instantly, sucking at her bottom lip, leaving her panting a little as he leans away for a second; his mind wandering.

"Harvey?" She's frozen from the shock of it all and wondering why the hell she isn't objecting to her own stupidity.

"Just…one second," He commands; but his words are wrapped in a soft intention and a thoughtful expression on his face like he's discovering her for the first time when it's really the second.

His hands catch around one of her earrings, gently twisting it side to side in his hands as he examines it; the green emeralds reflecting lamplight off of his Rolex and onto her face in opaque streams of colour.

"I bought you these. You kept them?"

"_Of course,"_ She says, her eyes finding his.

His hands pull her to him; tightening into the silk of her dress, her key hanging limply in her hand as she lets him. His lips brush over hers softly, his mouth parting to release a slight groan. "I want to…come upstairs?" The words are a statement, but he poses them like a question.

She nods deftly, "…Okay," the word ambiguous and open-ended. She turns, composed and oddly upright; feeling the key in her hand she unlocks the main door and hears his footsteps follow her down the hall. She presses the button for the elevator, her lips hot and tingling and before her finger has time to leave the red lit up arrow his hands are all over her, turning her round to him so he can kiss her first this time.

She's taken aback by his insistence and yet so dazed by his attention of her that she's overly compliant. He stops for a second, falling back to look at her, his face unsure. "You okay? If you don't want to do this then, we don't have to, we can just-"

She looks at him with a kind of distain as the elevator doors open and almost drags him inside, her fingers finding his belt loop as he presses her up against the handrail and the mirrored walls. His hand finds the back of her thigh, drawing little patterns where her thigh is about to end as his lips leave kisses on the top of her breasts. Just as she thinks he might just be about to unzip her dress and a gasp starts to ready in her chest, the elevator doors suddenly open with a ding. For a moment they both look out into the empty hall.

"I don't really want Miss Treager from 14 to find us. She's a cranky old miser." She says, catching his attention.

"Spoilsport." He mumbles, his eyes suggestive. He waits for her to get out of the elevator and follows close behind.

As she turns the key in her door, he's already got his hands up the inside of her dress, pulling his hip to hers and giving her full proof of his arousal in the moment.

For a second she's in shock at their current predicament and how this is all _her fault_; but she slaps it back to the confines of her conscience.

As her door opens and she flicks on a light; it's the meow that has him halting at the door.

"Harvey?" She turns, seeing him stop.

"You have a cat?" The way he says it, it sounds like an accusation.

"Is that a problem?" She asks as the grey Persian walks casually up to him. For a moment he stands there, eyeing it; almost aggressively like a dog until it walks idly past him and into the kitchen.

"I hate cats." He grimaces.

"His name is Louis, so it's fitting." She says as she shrugs out of her coat and throws it onto the sofa.

"You named your cat 'Louis'?"

"It makes me hate him less." She replies, wide-eyed, as if the notion that she would name is anything else is preposterous. "I thought it was the least I could do."

"He bought you a _cat_? How did I not know about this?"

"Because unlike **you**, Harvey; people actually come to my house for my birthday. And sometimes they bring gifts. Exhibit: A."

"Where was it earlier…when I…picked you up?"

"Sleeping probably…he's a very lazy cat."

He shakes his head at the 180 of their situation. "Well that's put a weird slant on the night." He grumbles.

She shakes her head, walking into the kitchen. "Hey baby, here you go," He hears her muffled cooing at Louis and the shaking of a box. "Do you want a drink?"

"A Double." He replies, loud enough for her to hear.

"I meant Louis. Whiskey, I gather?" She calls to him.

"Thank you. And leave Louis in the kitchen." He makes a face and shakes his head once more, before taking off his jacket, folding it neatly despite the dirt marks and placing it on top of her mess of a coat, half-draped on the sofa.

She re-enters, two tumblers in hand and a bottle of Scotch in the other before placing it on the coffee table in front of him.

"This place looks…exactly the same." He says, his eyes wandering around the pale peach walls and cream coloured furniture; a bookcase filled with plays and flowers and little trinkets. The coffee coloured drapes hang around the windows and roman archways lead to the hall and the kitchen. There's something warm and timeless about the place.

"I don't have enough time to change it, Harvey. But yes, it's at least 5 years overdue on a renovation. Thanks for noticing." She says sarcastically.

"It's not…bad. Just…I expected it to be different by now. Not vividly similar."

She forgets sometimes, how his acerbic tone is so often seen as rude. No one ever thinks that perhaps Harvey is just a little obtuse; like when he's not at work his filter is even more off. It makes her smile at the thought that she really does know him the best.

"Some things… they never change." She says absentmindedly pouring him a Scotch.

"We should have done it in the elevator. It's ruined the mood," He mumbles, inferring the very fluffy Louis.

"It's just a cat, Harvey. Didn't you ever have pets as a kid? What am I thinking; _of course_ you didn't."

"I'll have you know I had a Dog… called Rufus." He says.

"That's adorable."

"Does Louis know that you named the cat after him?"

"Of course he does! He bought the damn thing!"

They sit for a moment, an almost silence save for Louis padding about in the kitchen and ice cubes crashing together.

"I just have to ask **one** question," He says; the first one to break the silence.

"Oh god…what is it?" She eyes him, suspicion in her features.

"Does the cat sleep in the bed?"

She laughs outright. "Not tonight it's not…?" She arches her eyebrow, waiting for the expletive or objection she knows is coming.

"Donna," he says, the tone making her laugh all the more.

"No, the cat does _not_ sleep in my bed. I like my bed too much. And he has his own little bed in the hall so don't worry."

"Good. It was a deal breaker." He huffs, making a face.

"Yeah, right..."

"I'm serious."

"I'm pretty sure, judging by your earlier 'mood' that I could still persuade you."

"You wanna bet?" He asks, setting up the gauntlet.

"You really like losing don't you?" She jokes, placing her tumbler on the coffee table; issuing him to do the same.

"Try your best, Paulsen." He challenges, a cocky look of pre-victory on his face betrayed by his jaw tightening.

"Okay." She matches his challenge, bending down to find the strap of her Manolos.

"Leave them on." He says. When she looks up at him his eyes are unusually dark.

She sits up, placing the two glasses and bottle on the carpet against the sofa. With her heel, she gently pushes the coffee table away from the sofa, before kneeling on the floor, and parts his knees so that she can rest between them. He's immediately intrigued, a smirk on his lips as she leans forward, aware that he can see more than an ample view of her cleavage as she leans towards him; her hands wrapping around the silk of his tie as she pulls ever so gently, loosening it inch by inch. She savours every moment, between meeting his eyes and then deliberately pouting until the tie is completely undone. She leans in further, looking up at him through thick lashes; her hand trailing down the middle of his chest before she runs her hand along his belt and pulls at his belt loop, pulling him to her. His lips crash against hers, his mouth hot and cold from the sharp whiskey and cold ice cubes. In a frenzy, he grabs her ass, pulling her onto him.

"You win. I give up. Bedroom?" He asks, his lips sliding against the side of her throat.

"That was easy." She says; the words coming fragmented between kisses.

"Shut up." He huffs, his hands cupping her ass as he begins to stand.

"Harvey," She objects, aware of him carrying her and straddles his waist in a panic, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

"I said…shut up." He says with a kiss to her neck. "How long are your legs?" He asks, one hand reaching around to find an ankle.

"Long enough,"

He stops at the end of the hall, swinging her from side to side as he examines each door.

"Which way is the bedroom?" He asks.

"You don't remember?" She replies, smiling into his shoulder. "Right…"

Louis is lingering in the lounge, sniffing at the remaining amber liquid that rests in tumblers on the carpet. He vaguely hears a strangled laugh come from the bedroom, before the door shuts with a crispness that resonates down the hall.

* * *

The sex is…_different_.

No other words come to the fore.

It's fraught with an intensity that bounces off of the walls, but they are so intertwined that she can't tell if it comes from him or her or both of them. Every time she holds back, even just a little he has a way of pulling what he wants out of her in seconds. She retaliates every time, whether it's her lips, tongue, teeth or her nails down his back, she manages to feel a ghost of his smile against her skin every time she does so. They are children playing in a sandpit of possibilites that they themselves have made, and in all honesty she thinks he's the only man in the whole world who she'll let mould her as he wishes and take the same enjoyment as he does from it. He pushes her buttons, her boundaries and her resolve and she challenges him, no, makes it harder and harder for him at every turn. They base their friendship on honesty and clarity; but here they are playing amongst muddy waters and dirty games against the bright glow of a dark blue and burnt orange city sky.

She doesn't like to cuddle. When she objects to him sideling up against her, he quietly places a flutter of indulgent kisses from her elbow to her bare throat and she complies with a moan. She doesn't think that either of them move all night, and although she's quietly annoyed that he gets to win, the warmth of his chest on her back soothes the dull pain in her head and quickly lulls her into sleep.

* * *

When Harvey wakes, he's immediately disorientated; the light turquoise walls and darkened room completely throwing him. He's used to white and light and far less noise than seems to be coming from outside. Everything seems unrecognisable until he looks down an inch and is confronted with a very naked executive assistant, a mass of red curls and the freckly skin of her shoulder.

There's something homely about this woman that he knows too well; and suddenly he doesn't feel so out of sorts. His hands tighten against her naked form as she turns in her half-sleep, facing him. Her lips are slightly apart, leaving room for the slight hiss of snore.

He has the impulse to move her hair; his hand landing on her waist as he sidles even closer to her, wanting to feel every inch of her on him. She starts to stir, feeling a presence around her.

"Mm… morning _you_," She says, relaxing against him.

"Morning yourself." He replies, his lips finding hers, lazy and full.

She freezes for a second, her eyes opening wide against his. She jolts back, completely throwing him.

"Harvey…." She says, the word coming out raw and suspended. The image of Stephen is burning in her head along with the whiskey but it's brown eyes suddenly looking back at her with confusion.

"Who did you think it was-_Oh_…" He catches on as her face reads like a book.

"I…sorry …habit." She says; an almost apologetic smile mismatching her still wide eyes.

"Right," He replies, silent for a moment. All the tension seems to rush right back into the room with a vacuum –like pressure.

Another image of Stephen floods into her head. Crystal blues and _that_ smile…

She can't help it. It's the worst thing she could have possibly said and now the red light of warning is in her head. The need to bolt is completely overwhelming her. She turns, pulling the sheet with her as she comes to standing.

"I…this was a…bad idea." She says, her eyes franticly darting about the room as her mind reels. "I should never have…we should _never_ have..."

She watches the alarm in his face grow as he joins her, dressed only in a pair of boxer briefs and a look of complete bewilderment on his face, until he catches up.

"Donna," He protests but doesn't move.

"I…I'm sorry. This…was bad idea. We've made a **mistake**. You should go." Her words are garbled until the word 'mistake' arrives solid and hard and unyielding.

"Donna," He protests once more, voice hoarse.

"Please just go." She pleads; hating the sound of her voice as the words fall out.

He wasn't good at speaking his mind when she completely shut things down, and he isn't fairing much better now. He stands for a second, motionless. She looks away, grabbing her dressing gown to wrap around her, turning away from him for a second to gather the conflict in her head as her hands cover her mouth.

Moments later she hears the door shut with a loud bang. She hasn't moved an inch and he didn't say a thing.

She bins her sheets, pillowcases, tumblers and the bottle of Macallan.

She thinks about going to Church, of all places. She settles on watching 'Jeopardy' and thinks on the irony of the situation. She's thankful that he doesn't come back.

* * *

He's not sure why, but hours later he stops just outside of her building for the sixth time in 12 months and the third time in a day.

And for the first time in a city that he's grown up in,

Harvey Specter is truly lost.

* * *

I was going to cut the Chapter into 2, but I just thought it needed to be read as a whole.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes: **Loving the major Stephen fics popping up it's awesome. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**SUITS **By Atheniandream

* * *

**Chapter 7**

* * *

**'Here it comes,**

**The unavoidable sun weighs my head,**

**And what the hell have I done,**

**And you know,**

**I don't remember a thing…' ~ The Sun By The Naked and Famous.**

* * *

Days later, she's shuffling in front of him. It's not a good look for her.

"I uh…here's my formal letter of resignation; it's a month. I gave you the verbal warning three weeks ago, so…I have one week left."

"It should be **_three_** months." He looks up, no formality in his voice, just the feint lingering doubt.

She continues on regardless.

"Well….I think considering the current situation, you're…gonna let that slide, right?"

"Donna," His pen grazes the paper, finely, barely even touching it. She avoids his eye contact, focusing too on the Mont Blanc in his hands.

"Uh, I need to take Thursday and a Friday off…as Holiday; I still have months' worth and I need to… pack," She says, shuffling in her heels.

"Donna," He repeats, leading her to pause.

"What?" She says, the word darting out as an accusation before she's even got time to force it back down her throat.

"Are we not going to talk about what happened?" He says; the collected tension evident in his face.

"**No**. It was entirely _my fault_…I should have stopped it; and I didn't. I'm the one in the relationship and I screwed up. So…_I'm fixing it_." Her words are clinical and the detached tone isn't soothing either of them.

"There's nothing to fix, Donna. Look…"

"Harvey… you said, that if there wasn't anything…_there_… then I was free to go. I _want_ to go." She insists, straighting in her Jimmy Choos.

"…Really?" There are words behind his dark, reflective eyes; questions unsaid. He doesn't will them to come out this time.

"Yes. Look, I have mountain of paperwork,"

"Fine." He says, scrawling his signature on the bottom of her letter. "You know what to do with it." He says, handing it to her. His eyes look away, until something in him makes him catch her attention.

Their fingers claim their edges of the paper. For a second she thinks that neither will win the fight. Then he lets go.

Just.

Like.

That.

It's out of his hands now; even if they are burning to the touch.

He hears her shoes click away into the hallway. He doesn't once look up.

* * *

It's remarkable how they manage to do their jobs without getting too close to one another. Very little changes in the next few days; he still gets his coffee except it's on his desk instead of hers. She comes in and hands him his files, his messages and forwards his calls without a word. They are perfectly in sync and yet completely detached.

She'd usually bulldoze on in there, catch him unawares and force a resolution of them both. But this time… she's at a loss.

_She doesn't know where to start when it's the end._

* * *

When he looks up, Mike is the last person in the world that he expects to see in his office.

"Don't bother knocking," He replies gruffly, hunching his shoulders.

"Where's Donna?" The young man asks hurriedly.

"File room? I dunno…" He says, his eyes flicking back to the computer screen in front of him.

"Okay," He says, closing the door. Harvey looks up at him, a tempered frown as the kid stands in front of him

"She's leaving?" Mike clarifies; the shock evident in his tone.

_If this kid were ever to voluntarily hide an emotion it would probably give him a heart attack…or at least make his head explode._

"In a week," he confirms, sighing.

"Whatever you did you have to fix it, **_now_**." Mike presses.

_It's just like the kid to assume that it's him, that **he's** the one with the problem. That would be the better outcome..._

"What makes you think _I_ did anything?" He asks, the irritability in his voice taking precedence. He leans back in his chair, letting it swivel to the window; the whole of Manhattan hurrying past him.

"I know you two. _You _did something." He accuses.

He's not sure if it's his back being against the wall, the uneasy merger or losing Donna, but it occurs to him that Mike is probably the only friend he has left now. The natural urge to tear him a new one lessens.

"We _both_…did something." He mutters under his breath. It's loud enough for the associate to hear.

Mike eyes widen; taking in every modicum of information. After a moment, he squints, leaning forward.

"Come on Harvey, you clearly need to get it out." He presses. "I'm listening."

"I thought that it would… change things. But, apparently not; she said it was mistake. And now she's leaving."

"You slept together didn't you?" His eyes sharpen as he asks the question.

He can see the way the young man blanches that his expression reads a better truth than his words could ever collect together.

"What am I supposed to do?" Harvey asks, at a loss.

"She's just scared. No one wants to be the assistant who's in love with her Boss."

"Well, she said that she loves _him_. And that she wants to go, so." He's had enough of the sharing crap. He picks up the papers in front of him. He's shocked, but somehow it's familiar when Mike reaches over, slamming a hand down on his desk.

"And you're just going to let her? Man, this year has really done a number on you. Or maybe _she_ has…"

"It's not been a great year, Mike." He defends, but his defences are weak lately.

"But this is Donna we're talking about!"

"Don't you think I know that?" He fires at him, his hand clamping down on the piece of paper.

There's an air between them, stagnant and suspended. And now he's irritated. He pulls the paper out from under Mike's hand.

"You're gonna have to make a…huge gesture." Mike says, calming somewhat.

It was apparent to Harvey that this kid wasn't going to give up poking his nose in where it didn't belong. There was a small part of him that missed it…

"Fine; you have any ideas? Because I'm all out."

"Ease off of her. And then catch her at the airport."

"Isn't that a little 'Romantic Comedy', even for your feminine sensibilities?" Harvey eyes the young man, watching his brain work at the tenth speed.

"No... listen," He says, his eyes lighting up. "What's bigger than _catching_ her at the airport?"

"I…" He says, not catching on.

"_Meeting her_…" He says firmly.

He's not entirely sure if Mike's inferring what he thinks that he's inferring, but it seems the most around about way of doing something twice as long and with three times the required effort.

"Great…" He rolls his eyes. "You sure about this?"

"She belongs here, Harvey."

"I know." He says.

"Well, I gotta go. I better tell Rachel that the 'plan' is in motion." The young man says, the spring returning into his step.

"Wait." Harvey says, catching Mike before he leaves the room. "Rachel thought this up?"

"I think she loves Donna more than you do, if that's even possible." He shrugs.

"Mike,"

"Mm hm?"

"If this doesn't work..." He warns.

"It'll work." He says soundly. "You'll get her back Harvey, don't worry."

He should have known that little paralegal was orchestrating something. It was true that Donna wasn't just leaving _him_ behind; it was her whole life; her friends, her family. And to her it may be a life that she had needed a break from or a change in, but her life was on **_this_** side of the ocean. They all –except her, it seemed - knew that already.

He could probably deal with her being with Stephen as long as she was here; on New York soil. He'd get used to the possessive nature in him that hated the guy being around, that hated him kissing her in public and waking up with her and being with her. He would settle with just having her 8-7. They were the best part of the days anyway, and sure, the evenings would be the loneliest. But he would deal..._just to have her near him_.

The selflessness in him was...a new concept.

But this way... he was losing entirely.

This time Mike was right.

_It was time to push the envelope._

* * *

When she gets off of the plane; she's somehow not surprised that he's standing at arrivals in his suit, hands in his pockets and _that_ expression on his face, that disappointment mixed with a wistful challenge.

She's suddenly thankful that she hadn't told Stephen when exactly she'd be getting in.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She says, cocking her head to the side as she lets out a frustrated sigh.

"I looked at your itinerary." He admits, a detached shrug betraying any sincerity that he's actually sorry about snooping.

"Figures."

"You can't leave New York, Donna." He says, the words solid.

"Funny…I just did." She fires.

"You can't leave work." He says, his next excuse.

"Again. Resigned. It's done." Her tone is sharp, unwavering even as his steely gaze is challenging her.

He takes a step forward.

"Donna; this guy won't make you happy; you'll get bored."

"What, and _you_ will? Harvey, it's time we ended…whatever this is." She says.

"I love you." He counters. There's that look in his eye again. She still doesn't quite understand it.

"Harvey, don't."

"Donna…_I love you_. You're probably the first person I've ever loved."

"Look…if you really do love me, then…you'll let me go. Sometimes, that's just what you have to do."

He shakes off her lecturing tone. _Now is not the time for lessons in life..._

"You're meant to be with _me_." He insists, closing the distance even more.

"Just…stop." She places a hand between them both, her fingers grazing his lapel.

"You were always meant to be with me." He whispers, low and intimate between the space that divides them.

"Stop it... I can't." She shakes her head, feeling cornered in a room full of rushing people.

"Listen, I know you're scared. I…I'm scared too, and I'm not scared of anything. But I'm scared of losing you." He says, his voice thick.

_She can't go back. She never goes back twice. It's just who she is. _

But she can't bear to see the sudden change in him. It brings out something inside of her that she instantly regrets.

"Harvey; you never had me in the first place." She says.

The words are gutting, but she has no choice.

"Go back to New York and just…forget everything." She asks, about as close to a 'plead' as Donna Paulsen will ever give to a man.

The look on his face is close to what she's sure is heartbreak. It's bitterly ironic that the one place she'd been trying all those years to get him to connect with, his heart, the only thing that could ever break him, and yet here she was, the first person - except for his mother - to do it.

He's motionless and stunned.

She walks past him and feels her insides churn; the need to throw up threatening with bile in her throat.

_It is done._

* * *

**_'Don't you know,_**

**_People write songs about girls like you,_**

**_What will you do when something stops you,_**

**_What will you say to the world?'_ ~ '_Girls like you_' By The Naked and the Famous**

* * *

It occurs to him, when she's long gone, when the traffic of arriving tourists are milling past him in dribs and drabs; that he hadn't even offered for them _both_ to come back. That it was even an option in his head.

He supposes that his heart had completely taken over.

_What a time for firsts…_

**He hadn't even bought a return ticket home.**

* * *

As she walks through the slight drizzle and greying skies her head is filled with replay upon replay of him…waiting at the gates. Him telling her that he loved her. It made her nauseous leaving him standing in the middle of Heathrow Airport, on unfamiliar soil. Maybe she was the only one to make him see all those years. The one to open him up, to teach him how to use his heart only to teach him the defining lesson: that heartbreak is all around. That you can't hide from it. You can't shut yourself off and be scared to love because one day it'll come back to bite you in the ass and you have to just accept that. Maybe she's spent thirteen years developing him for that one important lesson. Maybe Zoe is the one for him and now he'll come out fighting this time. There's desperation in her that needs to believe it, and sharp detachment in her that's allowing herself that possible truth.

She can be cruel. But she's always known that.

She looks down at her phone to see a message. It's not who she'd thought it would be.

_'Hey, just got off work early. In Leicester Square. You here yet? x'_

She looks up to see Stephen, clad in a long woollen coat that he hugs around himself, waving with a smile as he stands by the monument of a thoughtful Shakespeare.

It dawns on her. This is everything; her whole life spanned for miles. Theatre, dry English humour, great sex and clear sky blue eyes that more than make up for the rain.

Something in her snaps like the broken foundations under a skyscraper.

Her suitcase hits the floor with a bang onto the wet concrete.

"Hey. You okay? I know the weather's crap but you'll get used to it." He looks at her, concern taking over.

**_It's such a shame she won't be staying…_**

"I uh…" She struggles for a consonant.

"What? You're starting to worry me. What's wrong?" He says, rubbing her arms.

"I…I have to go." She says, alarmed at the words coming out of her mouth, almost involuntary, like a reflex.

"Go where?" He double takes, frowning at her sudden change.

"I _have_ to go back…to New York." Her breath is catching, and there's a panic in her voice.

"What is this about?"

His understanding is immediate, a sickened smile forming.

"I think you know," She says.

"_Harvey_?"

She merely nods.

"Is there anyone in New York who isn't in love with Harvey Specter?" He says with abated frustration.

"I could put you in touch with a few people." She tries to smile, but it doesn't stop the choking cry that falls out of her, thick and heavy against her chest.

"This guy is starting to irritate me."

"Look; for what it's worth. Harvey never knew about you; and when Scottie told him that she was engaged, he was angry, he felt betrayed by her, for putting both you and him in that position. And…_we_…we've been friends for a very, very long time. There's _a lot_ of…history between us."

She refuses to break him with the very recent truth.

She watches his face take in all the information.

"I should have known. I guess…I didn't look for it. We could have had a lot of fun, you know?" His smile is sad, disappointed.

"We would have. But I can't leave him. It's my fault." She laughs, bitterly.

"That must be your only fault."

"Oh…I've got a few more. But it's the worst one." She tries to ignore it, her hands shaking as she picks up her suitcase.

She furious with herself the more he just...stands there. _He is not…not meant to have this a second time._ She feels like the grim reaper in his personal life. Her chest lurches.

"You… Stephen. You nearly stole me away. That's never happened before. I wish there was _just_ you… I know I would have been happy with you."

His expression changes, an energy in him suddenly.

"Then take a risk. Stay. You're here already...and...and I'm falling in love with you, Donna." He says.

She's not sure if it's his admission and the guilt it brings or a reaction to the truth in her gut, but she does all she can to hold back a very public sob.

"I can't. I can't leave him." She says, shaking her head.

"You've always loved him, haven't you?"

She merely nods. It's an ugly truth that she doesn't want to wear. Maybe she's always been running from it, and he's always stood there, holding the answer.

"As much as I want to punch him in straight the face, maybe I even saw it before we got know each other. I should have just…walked on by."

"No. You made me see that I deserved more from what I had."

"Just…you already found the guy, right?" There is the hint of regret in his small smile.

"I am so…_sorry_."

"I just hope he treats you as should be treated."

"He better," She smiles sadly, wiping her face.

"Look, besides my bruised ego and what I may have felt for you,"

"Stephen…" She objects, the words hurting far too much.

"If you're ever in London…by accident and alone or… just call me? Anytime."

"Okay," She says, nodding through watery eyes. She kisses him on the cheek and feels the pain of the moment more than she should have.

"You are a very special man, Stephen Huntley." She says, holding back a slight sob.

"And you are a very unique woman, Donna Paulsen. Don't accept any less from him."

"I won't."

There is a silent goodbye between them, her lips crinkling as she tries to keep the tears at bay. She's not even a crier. It seems that Harvey is always at the helm of any emotional outbursts in her life. She hopes that it's not a bad omen, for her ambiguous future.

And she hopes that she's made the right choice, because right now her heart feels like it's breaking all over again as she walks away, wordless and empty, pulling her suitcase behind her in the slight drizzle of grey english rain.

* * *

She wasn't expecting to take another flight in the same 24-hour period. The flight is delayed, the journey is bumpy and she's given a cheesy chicken risotto which makes her stomach churn all the more. There's still that overwhelming reach in her chest that makes her want to cry and throw up simultaneously, but she supposes that it's just a reaction to the last few weeks. Again, she hopes that she hasn't just left the one man who could make her happy on the other side of the ocean. But the loss is heavy, and palpable.

When she hits JFK, she's exhausted; the dull light of day flooding into the sky. She flags a cab, almost falling into it. She's almost lost a day with the flights and delays. It occurs to her that it must be Tuesday by now. She changed the time on her watch, which reads 5pm London GMT time.

"Where to Miss…?" Asks the cabby.

"West 19th. And step on it. Thanks." She huffs, leaning back as the familiarlity of her hometown whisks past her.

When she arrives; Henry the doorman greets her with his usual cordiality.

"Ms Paulsen, Good afternoon."

"Is he up there?" She asks, a yawn threatening. It's unlikely, but she needs to know what she's walking into .

"Not yet."

"Do you mind if I?" She asks.

"Be my guest." He says, handing her a guest key and allowing her entrance to the elevator.

"Thank you…have a good night, Henry." She says and pulls her suitcase into the elevator as she swipes the card and presses for the penthouse.

"Oh and Henry?" She says, the words hurried before the elevator doors can close.

"Yes?"

"Don't tell him that I'm here."

"I never saw a thing," The man smiles.

"You're an angel." She smiles back as the doors close.

It feels like she's in the maze of an absurd dream; half sleep deprived and half drunk on airplane gin and tonics laced with just a touch of pure fear.

She figures if he's not happy that she's broken into his condo that she can at least sleep on his couch, if it's the same one he had three years ago. She stopped going to his apartment when she caught another woman lingering in there for him wearing nothing but his favourite shirt. From that day on she swore she'd never spend another minute in there.

_How wrong she was. _

She doesn't even have the inclination to snoop around or hide her suitcase, and flops unceremoniously onto the couch. She's hoping to wait long enough to catch him, until the pressure of the last two weeks has her overcome with sleep, and she curls up against a stray pillow and falls into oblivion, the feint smell of Harvey lingering all around her.

* * *

~Harvey~

When he walks into the lounge and immediately hears the snoring, then spies the red hair spilling across his pillows, he shares a private smile with himself. He expects to be angry… hell, he's been angry for the past 24 hours so why not now? It occurs to him that he's relieved to the point of quiet hysteria somewhere in the back of his head and therefore there is no need to be angry. He should feel hurt at everything she's said and done over the past few weeks but then he knows…that she's as hopelessly bad at this as he is. It's probably what's taken them so long.

Oddly, he wouldn't have it any other way.

He grabs her suitcase, quietly wheeling it into his walk-in closet. Takes his jacket off, and hangs it up before relaxing into the seat next to her. He wants to wake her but he suspects that she's probably exhausted, with bags under eyes and a puffiness that could possibly have been from a break-up. Plus, she's a kicker, so he figures it's not best to try and pick her up without avoiding a groin injury.

So he sits…and _waits._

Unfortunately ten minutes later his cell phone rings and she's up like a shot. He cancels the call without looking at it as she rustles, squinting her eyes as she tries to claim her surroundings.

"Hey Sleepyhead," He says, still unmoved next to her. She notices him then.

"Hey. How was…uh…work?" She yawns through misty eyes.

"Yea…good…actually," There's something he needs to say, but somehow it doesn't seem so important anymore.

"Oh. Good." She repeats.

"So, did you forget something or," He says, indicating her presence.

"I'm sorry." She blurts the words out before she has time to think. Saying sorry to him is never an easy thing for her. "I hurt you."

"You _did_…but it's okay. It sounded a bit like the 'lassie go home' speech."

"I…shouldn't have said that."

"Well it doesn't matter now." He says, brushing it off.

"Really?"

"Really." He says, his eyes firm and sure.

She lets out a long sigh that feels three weeks long and a year old.

"Okay, I'm only going to say this once, so you better remember it, okay?" She says, through the overwhelming yawn that follows.

"Okay…?" He says, turning a little to face her.

"No, don't look at me." She says, looking away.

"Why not?" He asks.

"Just turn back, look out. Look at the view." She commands concentrating.

"Donna…you realise you're an adult right?" He smiles at her. It dawns on him that she can be very adorable and oblivious to her own nature sometimes.

"Will you just let me say it?" She asks, irritated.

"After everything…is it really that hard to say?" He's playing now, pressing her. Testing her for his own amusement.

"**I LOVE YOU**, okay?" She says, raising her voice a notch higher than she'd expected.

He smiles at her. "And you say I'm the one who's emotionally unavailable."

"There…_I said it_." She folds her arms, resting back into the couch as she sneaks a smile at him.

"And Stephen…?"

Her smile falls instantly. "I…don't ask me. It's done. I think I broke two hearts in the past 24 hours."

"My heart's not broken." He says, matter-of-factly.

"Really?"

"You kicked the crap out of it a bit, but I don't think it's broken. And..I'm sorry too. It was never about him, you know?"

"I know. And you're right."

"I know...but about?"

"He _was_ perfect. But it was never about him."

"Best isn't always perfect."

"Is that how you're referring to yourself now?" She jokes, that devilish streak peeking out.

"Shut up." He says, pulling her to him as his lips find hers. The kiss is soft, and full of such finality that it scares her. But she's resolute that she'll weather that storm. She has to now. _They both do._

"By the way, there was something I needed to tell you…_was_ going to tell you." He says, patting her leg.

"What? I've only been gone for a few days…a weekend at the most."

"**I got my name on the door**."

Her features run in slow motion, waiting for her sleep-addled brain to catch up.

"You didn't?"

"I did. Pearson, Darby and **Specter**."

"But…how? With everything…?"

"I made a deal…_with Darby_."

"Harvey," She warns.

"It's solid. And it's up there already…"

"Oh my god; and I missed it?" She says, a dissapointment in her tone.

"You're here now. That's…enough."

_Trust her to have left at the defining point in both of their careers._

"How long as this been going on?"

"A few days."

"But I was **here**, why didn't you tell me?" She asks, frowning.

"We had enough going on, don't you think?" His knowing glance is enough to remind her of the past weeks. His hands ghost her chin, running through her hair.

"Still… I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"I actually… it appears that I came to get you anyway; the celebratory drinks tonight wouldn't have been quite the same without you hogging all the champagne. Of course, Darby's not going to like that you just put a dent in his right hand man."

"I'm not apologizing for who I am." She says stiffly, her eyes wide.

"Really? You're going with that?" He questions, a smile forming.

"Only with you." She replies.

"That's my girl. Okay, we need to hustle." He says, standing.

"Wait. What if…the merger was conditional…on me being…_not here_?"

"If it was, then Darby has another fight on his hands, doesn't he?"

It's apparent that they're in this together now. She nods at him.

"Then I need to shower." She says, getting up off of the couch. "Flights do not look good on me."

"Do you have something to wear?" He asks her, watching her think through her suitcase.

"Yes. Maybe…"

"Do we need to go shopping?"

"Uh…Maybe..."

"Okay, we'll stop off along the way." He says, rolling his eyes.

"Harvey, we don't…"

"Yes. We do. Shower." He states, taking her hand.

"You're coming?"

"Of course." He says with a wink.

It's the best shower she's ever had.

* * *

An hour later, Harvey is sitting on a chair in New York's flagship _Oscar De la Renta_ store, waiting for a surprisingly decisive woman to emerge.

He hears the swishing before her sees her. And boy, _does her see her._

She is a vision in coral, head to toe in a strapless fishtail gown, fitted and elegant and perfect with her wavy red hair draped over one shoulder. There is a shy smile to her as she glances at him, swishing the skirt like a bell. She waits for him to say something; watching his expression as he smirks, his features chiselling all the more as he sits forward for a moment.

"What is it?" She barks, wide eyed at his silence making her nervous.

He smiles, sitting back. "You look stunning…but it's…it's missing _something_."

"What? What could it possibly be missing?" She says, checking herself in the mirror.

With that, he stands, taking a large black box out from behind his back.

"Whilst I was waiting…I had a little walk and I realised: A beautiful woman in a beautiful dress..._always_ needs a little…statement." He opens the box for her, and laid out neatly in the red velvet is a round necklace made completely out of swirls of diamonds. She tries to suppress the gasp that comes out of her mouth.

"Are those…diamonds?" She asks, her polished fingernails sliding over the necklace as it glitters in the hard lights of the store.

"It's not crystal if that's what you're asking," He says playfully.

"Harvey…it's **huge**."

"You want to try it on?"

"This is _too much_." She warns.

"Nothing is too much for you."

She frowns, shaking her head as he undoes the clasp, placing it around her neck. It's a vision, that makes her beautiful dress look like a sack of potatoes. The entire piece is made of flawless diamonds, and it occurs to her that it's not a new piece. "How old is it?" She asks.

"1950's."

"Oh my god. Harvey this is…**no**, Harvey," She splutters, feeling the metal cool and soothing on her skin.

"Donna, do you like it?" He says, cutting her off.

"Uh, yes! Only morons and blind people wouldn't appreciate it, but-"

"Then it's done." He says, looking in the mirror after her. "Can we go now? We're late. And the dress is perfect." He mumbles in her neck, his lips landing to her right ear as he glances at her through the relfection. "I'm going to enjoy…unzipping that later." He says, a growl low in his throat.

She swishes around to him, her hands finding his lapels.

"Don't ever assume that you're gonna get some just because you bought me something, Harvey Specter."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Ray is waiting outside, the limo prepped as he leans against the car. He double takes when he says Donna being led hand in hand out of the store by his Boss.

"Miss Paulsen. You are…the most beautiful woman in Manhattan." He says.

She laughs, immediately at ease in his company as Harvey opens the door for her. "Beauty isn't everything, Ray." She smiles.

"You wear it with a perfect elegance." He replies, winking.

There is a strange air in the car as they drive to the party; an electricity that's never been so alive with possibility. She forgets again, that he's holding her hand, until his thumb brushes over hers. She looks up at him, finding a flutter just left of her chest.

"Hey." She whispers.

"Hey." He replies.

"So…this is it, huh?"_ Her words mean so many things._

"Everything's gonna be fine, Donna. We're in it together."

"We always were, Harvey."

Her admission leaves them both silent, thoughtful. Everything is feeling so natural and yet, completely frightening and new. It's a perfect strangeness, going into a familiar situation from a completely different perspective.

"Wait a sec," He suddenly says.

"What?"

"What did you do with Louis?" He eyes her suspiciously.

"He's being looked after."

"Cat or regular?"

"Both…with both, I guess."

"Thank god." He lets out a sigh.

"_Don't_. I miss that cat." She whinges.

"It's not living at the condo." He says firmly.

She gives him a look, letting it permiate the air and ripen for a moment.

"But I only came back for _him_…" She says through a barely contained grin.

* * *

There Might be more, and there might be an Epilogue. Thankyou to everyone who's kept along for the ride.


End file.
